It's Like the Pot Calling the Kettle Black
by Pinkster Lily
Summary: Bella never wanted to go to Forks.But forced by her mom after an incident that ended with her in Mental Ward,she has to.And there is also Bree,the voice in Bella's head that never stops criticizing her.Can Edward save Bella from self-destruction? ABUSE
1. Meet Bree

**Summery:** Bella never wanted to go to Forks. But forced by her mom after an incident that ended with her in a Mental Ward, she has too. And then there is also Bree, the voice in Bella's head that never stops criticizing her. Can Edward save Bella from self-destruction, or will Bree be able to triumph over Bella for good?

It's Like the Pot Calling the Kettle Black

By: Vixen Hood

Chapter One:

Meet Bree

Hello. My name is Isabella Marie Swan. Bella to anyone who cares, which happens to be hardly anyone.

I am seventeen years old and have plain brown eyes and matching long hair. Or at least used to have long brown hair. Ever since my episode a few months ago where I cut all of my hair off with a knife, it has been short and now reaches my chin. That was the reason I was here in Forks, Washington, the dreariest town in North America. Also the wettest.

My mother Renee has sent me here to live with my father, Charlie, because she thought I was insane. I don't think I am, but it's not like anyone believed me because isn't that what crazy people always say?

I'll admit, I am a bit on the far side, but I'm not crazy. I don't have visions; I don't see hallucinations, though between you and me, I do hear voices. Okay, not _voices_, but a _voice_. As in, one. But that's not my fault. That is my mother's second ex-husband's, James, fault. Her new husband is a lot nicer, his name is Phil and he plays baseball. 

Anyways, back to the incident that got me landed here in the worst town on the face of the planet. I mean, I chopped all my hair off, big deal, right? Well, apparently so because I ended up in a mental institution for three months. I guess muttering to myself can be considered strange. But that's not the point. The point is that my mother took me out and after two more months decided that maybe the city wasn't the best place for me and sent me here.

I'm average. I'm boring. And apparently my mental criticizer won't shut up today. Her name is Bree. I didn't chose the name though, she did. Bree doesn't like me much, and I guess the feeling is mutual. She was the one that convinced me I wasn't good enough and made my cut off all my hair. All the muttering Renee heard was me talking to her. Bree arrived after Renee married James. James was your average guy who had a job. To everyone else but me, he was the nicest guy around. Your ideal husband. To me he was the devil incarnate. He made my life living hell from the time I was six up to when I turned thirteen. He mysteriously disappeared after that and people say he's dead, but I know better. I know he's out there somewhere, biding his time, waiting to strike. 

I must sound paranoid, but what can I say? He's out there somewhere and until they find his dead body I won't believe otherwise.

"Bella?" a voice called through the bathroom door. "Are you okay?"

That was Charlie. He knows about my stay in the Institution, and is constantly asking me that. Bree took over then. Oh, did I forget to mention that she periodically controls what I do? That's how my hair ended up coming off.

"Yes, I'm fine Dad. I'll be out in a minute." Bree turned me back to the mirror. _Ugh, you're so plain,_ she told me, and a swell of sadness flew through me. 

_I know,_ I muttered. Why couldn't I be better for Charlie? I was his only child and I was the plainest girl around. Depressed, I didn't care as Bree took the razor I was using and finished shaving my legs. She was the one that was cool. She was everything I wasn't and more. Daring, likeable, unique, and smart. And not crazy. And I was stupid, careful, and_ plain_. Bree said goodbye to Charlie and skipped breakfast.

_Too much fat,_ she said scathingly to me, as if it was my fault, which it was. It was Monday, and I had already been to school once since I got here, on Thursday. Every student was excited about me coming because the school was so small. Obviously they didn't know about my stay in the Institution or else they would be staying clear of me like they did back home in Phoenix.

I regained control in first period as Bree muttered to me to not be an idiot and mess up the test we were about to take. I knew the consequences; I wouldn't get control for a week if I messed up. It was almost like my body was really Bree's because she was in control of it more than I was. She _let_ me have control of it if I behaved. Sad but true. I ignored the grumbling of my stomach as I completed the test in five minutes. I had studied all weekend so that I could pass.

Soon it was time for Spanish, where Bree took over and talked to Jessica Stanly, who sat right next to us. Bree and Jessica got along real well. Bree liked to talk (again the opposite of me) and so did Jessica. I wished I could have control again.

_Shut up already,_ Bree moaned. _Can't you just be quiet for once; she's telling me about the Cullens._

Oh, the Cullen's. I remembered them. The beautiful, certainly not crazy Cullens.

_Exactly, now be silent._

And I was as I also listened to Jessica talk. "They are the hottest people I have ever seen. It's a pity that Edward doesn't date, he's the cutest."

Bree smiled and asked, "Remind me, which one is Edward?"

Jessica's face lit up and she gushed, "The bronze haired _god_. He's so..."

I tuned her out after that. The memory of Edward came to mind again. Jessica was right, he was good looking, and Bree agreed with me as I continued to think about him. The bell rang soon enough and we walked with Jessica to the cafeteria to get food. Bree let me get lemonade and an apple to calm my stomach. Then she was back in control and I was watching as she flirted lightly with Mike Newton before turning him down as he asked us out. And yes, it was weird that it was always _us_, but that was the way it was. We came as a package. I guess.

The Cullen family was sitting at the far end of the cafeteria. As far as I knew, we had no classes with any of them. The only class we had that had an empty spot was Biology, but I was sure that had always been an empty spot.

They were all so beautiful, so perfect, and I wished suddenly that I could be like them. Flawless, smart, and not a victim of Multiple Personality disorder. At least that's what I think it is. But Bree was too real and I was aware of her presence and control. Whatever she was, she didn't belong.

_Will you be quiet,_ she snapped at me and I retreated back so that it was harder for her to hear me._ That's better. And stay back there._

As soon as lunch ended, Bree let me take control. Bree didn't like science in general, so she let me handle that part of the day in which I had to go through an hour of it.

Mr. Banner began lecturing us on the stages of Mitosis as soon as the bell rang and everyone was in their seats. Everyone in this class had a partner but me, so my book bag was on the empty desk beside me as class began. Bree was sighing and muttering about how stupid Biology was. She wanted to take Art or something instead, but I kept telling her it was required. I tried to tell her to be quiet as I attempted to take notes, but she wouldn't listen. She was just starting to get annoying, but before I could snap, the door opened.

_Okay, this was an idea that I've been toying with for a few days. Should I continue? Review, and let me know what you guys thing of the story._

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	2. In The Clouds

Chapter Two:

In the Clouds

When life gives you the wonderful opportunity to sit next to gorgeous guy with bronze hair and strange topaz eyes, it is definitely something to behold. But when that same guy turns to you and gives you a glare that could bring a new definition to "If looks could kill," then you might want to back off.

This so called gorgeous guy was named Edward Cullen. And yes, he was beautiful in ways that are impossible to describe, but when his angular features are twisted into a look of hatred, those good features suddenly become intimidating and frightening, and all you want to do is climb into a hole and never come out.

To explain this better, it was the darling Edward Cullen that came through that classroom door late. I was utterly and completely wrong in assuming that I didn't have a partner in Biology. So, so wrong.

Because Edward Cullen was my partner.

And even though the only thing I ever did to him as smile timidly as I slid my bag to the floor, he glared at me. He hated me and I had never even spoken to him.

_Well,_ Bree said, _you are the pathetic piece of scum that just happens to sit next to him. Has it crossed your idiotic mind that he might dislike you because you are so _bland_? I wish I wasn't stuck in your body._

_Leave then. Lord knows, I don't want you here._

_Well, I don't want you here either._

_It's my body._

_Sure it is, Bella. That's why I can control what you say and do. Face it, it's mine and it always has been._

I was angry. So it was her body now? The fat and ugly one?

_It's you or me, Bella, and I'm not ready to give up on life just yet._

_It's my life that you're ruining. I would be in Phoenix still if it wasn't for you. You're the one that intruded on my life in the first place._

I could feel Bree's anger radiating through me, and I noticed that Edward Cullen's gaze was set on my hands, clenched so tightly on the desk that my knuckles were white.

_Get OUT!_

And suddenly I was pushed to the back, just floating around in my brain as Bree took control. She tried to force me back farther, out of my body entirely, but I wouldn't give. The struggle was hard and lasted forever, but eventually Bree left me where I was. Through Bree's eyes, I saw Edward look away, frustration and a bit of curiosity etched onto his face for whatever reason. Our hands relaxed, and Bree picked up the pencil that I had dropped in our fight. Bree kept sending me jolts of pain, trying to weaken me so that I would leave.

Though the hateful and frustrated look never left his face, Edward kept glancing at us curiously. Bree moved our hand so that it brushed some stray pieces of hair out of our face. I hated that I had no control over my actions. The fact that it was not _my_ body, but _ours_. No, not even ours, but _hers_, because she allowed me control, not the other way around. It was my body biologically and I was attached to it in both mind and soul, but she was the intruder that had captured it. So I was nothing but an extra appendage to it.

And I resented that with every fiber of my being, even if right now there wasn't much of it. Bree smiled at Edward and twisted a lock of hair around our finger, turning back to the notes that I had failed to complete. Eventually, Bree just gave up taking notes and feigned interest in the class while secretly sneaking glances at Edward. It disgusted me to hear what she thought about him. It was completely wrong. But what could I do about it?

_Bella, do us both a favor and shut up,_ Bree told me matter-of-factly as she glanced up at the clock. Five more minutes until class ended.

_I don't want to_, I said, trying to sound defiant. I wanted control and I wanted it _now_.

_Tough luck, Bells,_ she said, her tone scathing. I lost it then. She couldn't tell me what to do. It was _my_ body, damnit!

Bree pushed me back, screaming at me as I tried to battle her for the first time in a long while. _Let me out! I want to be in control!_ I screamed back at her. The pencil dropped to the desk, but no one noticed but for Edward who had been watching us for awhile now.

_NO!_

I don't know what happened, but somehow we ended up on the floor, landing with a soft thump. Immediately everyone was out of their chairs and rushing toward us. Echoes of "Are you alright?" and "Somebody get the nurse!" flowed around, and I was intently aware of Edward Cullen standing above us, looking down with worried, black eyes.

Wait! Black eyes? I could have sworn they were topaz before.

Bree retreated, allowing me to deal with the crowd of people. She wasn't good at getting out of things like this, even though she liked the attention. Unfortunately for me, neither was I, but it wasn't like I had a say in the matter. It was Bree who got to decide who would be in control for the moment.

Mr. Banner managed to somehow push himself through the mass of students and hovered over me, a concerned look in his eyes. "Bella, are you okay? Can you get up?"

I blinked my eyes hard, sitting up with some effort. The fight had taken a lot out of me, and Bree was smugly aware of that in the back of my mind. _Stop sniggering and let me get us out of this mess you landed us in._

_If you hadn't fought_ _then there would be no mess._

_Yeah, and you expect me to just sit here passively as you control _my_ body and try to push me out? Sure!_

_Shut up Bella, your idiot teacher is asking you a question._

I bit back the comment that I was going to say and turned my attention to Mr. Banner.

"Bella, I think you should go to the nurse, you feel like you have a fever."

I looked around in a daze and noticed that most of the class had backed off except for Mike and Edward, both of whom were at my side, Mike a little closer than was necessary and comfortable.

"I'm fine," I started to mutter, but then a smooth, velvet-like voice interceded mine, completely drowning it out. It was beautiful and almost necessary for life, like an oasis in the middle of a desert or chocolate on a rainy day.

"She should go to the nurse, Mr. Banner. Perhaps Mike can take her?" I looked up to see that it was Edward that had spoken with the velvety voice. It struck me that I had never heard him, or any of his family members for that matter, speak before and I was suddenly happy to have heard the beautiful voice. I would give anything to hear it again, if only once. Bree was agreeing with me for once.

"Nonsense, Mr. Cullen, why don't you take her up?"

Edward opened his mouth as if to argue but closed it quickly, seeming to think better of it. Mr. Banner told the class to go back to their seats as Edward helped me stand, grabbed my binder and pen and stuffed it into my backpack, and guided me out the door. The way he stood almost had me believing that he wasn't breathing, but that was insane. Of course he was breathing. I mean, it wasn't like he wasn't human.

Bree chose then to suddenly come out of her blessing silence and start screeching at me in a panicked and frantic voice, something I'd never heard coming from Bree. Her voice drowned out the sound of the heavy rain dropping to the ground as it became a deluge as we exited Mr. Banner's classroom.

_OH MY GOD! BELLA, BELLA YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME! THEY'RE VAMPIRES, ALL OF THEM, THE CULLENS! BELLA!_

Her voice was an annoying buzz in my head that I couldn't get rid of. Vampires? She had to be shitting me. Vampires weren't real. This was just another of her stupid jokes.

But as much as I wish it would, her voice didn't stop as it continued to harass me.

_BELLA SWAN! YOU STUPID, INGNORANT HUMAN!_ she continued to shout. I felt indignant at being called stupid. As far as I was concerned, Bree was the one that had turned stupid, not me. I mean, seriously? Did she really expect me to believe her when she said that the Cullens were vampires? _Fine,_ she snapped, hearing what I was thinking,_ go on_—_get yourself killed. The sooner you're dead the sooner I can move on. Forgive me for even caring about your wellbeing._

_Oh, don't kid yourself,_ I snapped back._ You don't care about me. I'm dirt under your shoe. You care only about yourself._

_True,_ she mused, for once not entirely selfish sounding._ But if you die then I have to experience the pain of death again and trust me, I don't want to._

I chanced a glance at Edward. He was completely drenched, as was I, from the brief deluge of water, yet he still somehow managed to look like a god while I probably looked like a half-drowned cat. His hair was messy and a darker shade of his normal bronze, a few drops of rainwater still in his damp locks. His blue shirt was plastered to his chest with the rain, revealing muscles that I hadn't noticed before during my examination of him across the cafeteria. And he was looking more and more concerned by the minute. I wondered if I had started mumbling under my breath again. I thought I had that under control now, but I could have slipped.

_Of course you didn't say anything you idiot,_ Bree barked. _He's probably one of those 'gifted' vamps, the ones with powers. And then plus, you are pretty weird. And that collapse back in class would be considered odd. But that's your problem, not mine, _Bree said with indifference.

_My problem? _My_ problem? HELLO?! What happened was ALL _YOUR _FAULT! _I screeched. I was never one to lose my temper, but Bree was pushing the envelope. _You have to live in this body too, as much as I wish that wasn't true! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!_ I screamed in my head, and instantly Bree quieted, the only thing betraying her presence being her constant babble of unintelligible thoughts at the back of my head.

I turned away from Edward briefly, noticing that we were almost to the student parking lot. I whirled back on Edward. "Thank you so much for guiding me out of the classroom but I'm fine now." I tried to reach for my backpack, but he pulled the arm it was slung across out of my reach.

He stared at me like I was some alien from outer space as I tried again to unsuccessfully grab my bag. "What is _wrong_ with you?" he gaped, still staring, before he looked away, seemingly embarrassed by his out of line question.

"And that," I began, snatching my backpack off his arm, "is something that has been debated for several years. Good day." I turned away from him and started marching down the sidewalk, ignoring his astonished gaze. Soon I turned a corner and didn't have to worry about Edward Cullen again as I walked away.

It was only when I was in my truck and driving away to Charlie's house that I remembered I still had another hour of school. But Charlie wouldn't know that I had left early because he wouldn't be home until around five or six o'clock. I shrugged to myself and turned on the radio to drown out Bree's thoughts. Finally, peace and quiet.

When I got to the house, I was surprised to find the cruiser in the brick driveway. I pulled into my spot, knowing that it was too late to flee. Charlie would have heard the roar of the truck's engine and know it was me.

With some trepidation, I shut off the truck's engine and put the keys into my bag, shutting and locking the door of the truck. Charlie stood at the door to the house, a look of mild confusion on his face.

"You're home early," he called as I walked up the drive to the house.

"Yeah," I said, quickly making up an excuse to be home an hour early, "I wasn't feeling too good so the nurse let me go home. I think I'm getting sick," I lied.

Charlie nodded his head sympathetically and stood aside as I passed him, shutting the door once I'd gotten inside. The rain had just stopped and I pulled off my jacket and shoes, hanging up the coat to dry.

"Well, I made dinner—don't worry, instant macaroni and cheese, 'just add water'—and it's on the table if you want some."

I was shocked by the kind act and touched. "Thanks, dad," I said, forcing a smile. I'd gotten so good at it that they almost looked genuine. "I really appreciate it. Not to ruin the mood, but why are you home so early?"

Charlie's smile faltered. It was obvious that he wished he didn't have to tell me why he had left work before five o'clock. "Renee set up a doctor's appointment for you at four. I wanted to drop you off," he muttered.

Instantly I was full of rage. "But Renee said I didn't have to go any more! She said that I wouldn't have to see one of _them_, again!" I shouted furiously, referring to the doctors. She lied to me! Lied right to my face! A small voice in the back of my head that was not Bree's muttered that it wasn't much of a surprise, seeing as she had freaked on me when I had cut off my hair and had called the nearest mental institute to come put me in a straight jacket and haul me off to a white-padded room.

"I know! I know she said that, hell I didn't even know until this morning. But you've got an appointment with Dr. Cullen at four, so you might as well go," he said. At the look on my face he added in a softer voice, "You might as well give it a shot. Dr. Cullen is a very nice man, I'm sure you'll love him."

I was still doubtful as I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl and a fork to eat the surprisingly good macaroni and cheese. I guess I knew how Charlie had survived these past years without me—lots and lots of instant macaroni.

I ate my food slowly, trying to prolong the inevitable, and by the time I had finished my food, put the rest of the uneaten macaroni and cheese into a Tupperware bowl in the fridge, and cleaned up the kitchen, it was already 3:45. Charlie came out of the living room and led me to the cruiser. We had to leave now if we wanted to get to the hospital in time to make my appointment.

The drive to the hospital was silent and when we arrived at the front of the medical center, Charlie parked the car and kissed me quickly on the cheek, telling me he'd be back to pick me up in an hour. The motion surprised me—Charlie was never one for showing his emotions, I had inherited that from him.

Opening the cruiser's door, I got out and slammed it shut, wincing slightly when the door slammed just _a little_ too loudly. I was still upset that I had to come here to see a psychologist about my metal well-being. Renee had said I wouldn't have to, but I guess she had been lying.

Once inside the sliding doors of the hospital, I shook out my damp hair and walked up to the lady at the front desk, trying my best to act pleasant. By the expression on her face I guess I didn't do a very good job. "Hello," I forced out, "I'm looking for Dr. Cullen's office."

The woman glared at me and then shuffled some files on her desk. "Down the hallway on your left and walk all the way down until you get to the end. Then take the right hand side. Room 217." She went back to ignoring me and I turned to follow her directions.

Bree had been strangely silent since our encounter with Edward Cullen at school and, quite frankly, it concerned me. She wasn't the type to be quiet for long, but then again she was angry at me. But honestly, when wasn't she? There were very few things in this world that she hated more than me. I suppose I should be happy about that though—from what I had gleamed from Bree's thoughts, usually when she inhabited someone, that person was completely pushed out of their body. I was one of the lucky ones that for some reason weren't completely thrown out.

When I found the door to the office I was mildly surprised that the woman at the front desk had given me correct directions. A small plate on the door read _"Dr. Carlisle Cullen, M.D., Ph.D."_ and I looked at the door knob, debating on whether I should just make a run for it and come back to the front of the hospital in an hour for Charlie to pick me up. But then Dr. Cullen might call Charlie and I'd be in major trouble.

With trembling hands, I gripped the silver knob and turned, sucking in a deep breath in preparation of a very long hour. What I found inside the office, however, was something I was not expecting.

An extremely attractive young man with light blond hair was sitting at a desk in the back corner of the room, facing the door. His topaz eyes found mine and he stood up, beckoning me inside.

His clothes were nice enough—the white lab coat and white dress shirt with a dark blue tie and black dress pants were pleasing to the eye. The office was white and the blinds were pulled over the window but still open, allowing the natural light from outside to illuminate the room. A dark colored couch with a matching pillow adorned the wall, directly under the window. A leather chair rested beside the couch. It was a nice space, airy and light, not at all like the cramped offices I had experienced before when visiting a doctor.

Hesitantly, I edged just barely inside the office enough so that I could shut the door behind me. Just because the office and the man within it looked nice didn't mean I could trust him. He was just like the rest that said I was crazy and put me on medication that didn't work since I _wasn't_ crazy.

He smiled and shook his head at my antics, waving his hand for me to come forward. He held out his hand expectantly for me to shake when I reached him. I slowly stuck out my own hand, wishing I could just disappear. I didn't like coming in to see doctors and this wasn't any exception. Even if this was Edward's father and he was sure to be kind.

Dr. Cullen smiled a dazzling smile at me and released my hand from his icy cold one. He gestured for me to sit down in a leather chair in front of his desk. Slowly, I sat down, not taking my eyes off him.

He smiled at me again and sat as well, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. His voice was incredibly smooth and velvet-like when he spoke. "So, Isabella, I see you found my office without any trouble."

I narrowed my eyes, accessing him. This was not how the doctors usually reacted to me when they first met me. "Should I have had any trouble?" I asked suspiciously.

"Oh, no, no," he chuckled, his voice filling the silent room. "No, my office just seems to be very out of the way."

An awkward silence filled the room once he finished speaking, and I didn't want to break it. I fidgeted uneasily in my chair. Usually, by this point in time, the other doctors had already started to launch into an explanation of my history, something I, of course, already knew and found redundant. Biting my lip, I decided I couldn't take the silence much longer and decided that I might as well break it. Dr. Cullen looked as if he was expecting me to start. I took another deep breath and let it back out. No use putting off the inevitable.

"I'm not crazy."

Dr. Cullen's eyebrows rose in disbelief.

"I know you think I am—all of _them_ do."

Dr. Cullen assessed me for a moment before leaning forward in his chair and lacing his fingers together on top of his desk. "And who are 'them?'" he asked calmly, curious.

"All of the other doctors like you—they say I'm crazy, give me some pills that don't work, and send me off on my merry way."

Dr. Cullen watched me while I ranted and waited for me to calm down before speaking. "Isabella—"

"Bella," I automatically corrected.

He raised his eyebrows again but continued, "Bella, then, I'm not here because I'm going to 'say you're crazy, give you some pills that don't work, and send you off on your merry way.'"

I was shell-shocked. What?

He must have seen my expression, because he began to explain himself. "According to your mother and your previous psychiatrist—" I snorted, cutting him off. That "doctor" was hardly a doctor at all. Dr. Cullen cleared his throat and went on as if I hadn't just interrupted him hid-sentence. "—you suffer from mild schizophrenia. But I'm not here because of that."

This time it was my turn to raise my eyebrows and look at him with disbelief in my eyes. "Then why are you here?" My tone was one that was heavily laced with suspicion and confusion.

"I am here to figure out _why_ you display signs of schizophrenia."

"What?" I gasped, utterly shocked. The road that he was on right now was leading me to the conclusion that he—

"I don't think you're crazy."

Bingo.

I smiled a little. For once, here was a doctor that decided he'd look a little deeper, but I had to make sure. "So, you're saying that you don't believe that I have schizophrenia?"

"Yes, Bella. I don't believe that you have schizophrenia, but neither do I believe that you are okay."

"But, Dr. Cullen—"

"Please, Bella, call me Carlisle," he insisted.

I smiled, continuing on, "Carlisle, then. But what do you mean 'you don't think I'm okay?'"

Carlisle leaned forward more and raised his interlaced hands up on his elbows in order to prop his head up. His eyes stared into mine, searching, until I had to look away. "I think there is a reason for this type of behavior, though I'm not quite sure what. But usually with people who show signs of self-harm and depression, along with talking to voices, have upsetting pasts. I am here to see what kind of past you might have had that would have caused such a traumatic change in your everyday behavior."

I suppressed a shiver, not wanting to think about what _had_ happened to me. That was the whole reason that Bree had decided to inhabit me, because she relished in the pain I had endured at James's hands. I could practically hear my heart rate spike at the thought. _Don't think about it_, I told myself. _Don't think about it. The last thing you need is to have a flashback in the middle of Carlisle's office._ I took a deep breath to calm my racing thoughts. It had been awhile since my last flashback, I would have to be careful if I didn't want to have another one right here in the hospital.

Carlisle noticed my shiver and worried expression, and pressed on. "From what your mother told me, after she divorced your father she met a man named James, who she married after you turned six. Let's talk about him." At my silence, he prompted, "Was he a nice man?"

I considered the many different answers that I could give—the majority of them not entirely truthful. Bree wasn't helping me decide either, just mumbling incoherently in the back of my head like she always did when I saw one of the "nut-case" doctors. I decided to go for the safest one. "I don't want to talk about him," I muttered while looking away, not able to keep the dark tone out of my voice. I realized my mistake when Carlisle looked up at me sharply and I leaned away from him, bringing my knees to my chest and hugging them. No going back now.

Carlisle shook his head. "We have to talk about him, Bella. Obviously he has something to do with this."

"No, I won't talk about him. Anything but him, please," I practically begged, turning my face away from his beautiful topaz eyes and pressing my right cheek to my knees.

"Bella…" Carlisle trailed off. I shook my head awkwardly and continued to look at the wall to my left, where the couch and window were. The green trees swayed outside the window, carefree and light as the wind pushed the leaves. It wasn't raining anymore, and the clouds looked considerably lighter than they had earlier. I glanced at the clock on top of Carlisle's desk that I could just barely see out of the corner of my eye. The long, spindly looking hands pointed to 4:15. Only fifteen minutes had gone by since I had entered.

I was dangerously close to the memories overflowing, but I wouldn't let Carlisle know that. I couldn't. For the first time ever a doctor believed me when I said I wasn't crazy, and I couldn't let anything I did contradict that.

But what would happen when he kept pressing for details and I had to keep coming back for more sessions? There was no escaping it, eventually he would find out. For once I wished someone knew about what James had done to me so I wouldn't have to tell Carlisle myself. But Bree knew. Only Bree knew.

I could tell Carlisle didn't want to push me, but after another three minutes of silence, he gave in. "Bella, please tell me what he did to you. Did he abuse you?"

I shook my head, not willing to talk at all about exactly what he did because that would be the next question. "Please—" I cut myself off as I felt one of the memories of James coming. It had been prolonged for far too long, I was overdue for one.

"_Hold it steady, Bella! Hold it steady! You know what will happen if you don't hold the damn piano steady," threatened James, his voice full of malice. I whimpered._

"_Please, it's so heavy," I begged. He had tied me to the piano leg, making me hold the wobbly piano steady as he played like a madman, his hair flying around in the air and drenched in sweat._

"_Bella, if you don't hold it steady I'll__—" but it was too late for him to make his threat. I had already dropped the leg of the piano and it wobbled tediously as James stopped playing the quick notes. "Why, you little—!" He jumped up, the piano bench toppling over and I cried out in pain as it landed on my out-stretched leg. James pulled at my brown hair, yanking my head back and slapping me across the face with enough force it bruised my cheek and eye. The pain lanced over my face as I cried out, trying to pull away but the ropes around my wrists tightened painfully and held me still._

_James hit me again, making the side of my face hurt even more as he darkened the bruise. He yanked my hands free of the ropes, leaving angry red burns from where they had pulled tight across the skin of my hands. He yanked me up and threw me against the opposite wall. A loud snapping sound reached my ears and I screamed as pain flooded my arm._

"_Don't hurt me, don't hurt me, please," I sobbed out, huddling up into a ball as James kicked me. I stumbled up despite the pain filing my body and tried to run for the door._

_Big mistake. The door out of the room was locked and I banged on it with my one good fist, the small bony hand making almost no sound at all against the heavy wood. I turned around with my back against the door; eyes searching for the way out I knew wasn't there. James came at me, an evil glint in his dark eyes._

"_Please, no, it hurts," I whimpered as he pushed me down to the floor._

"_This is what happens when you don't do what you are told, Bella," he said, pulling up the hem of my dress._

I was pulled out of my memory as Carlisle shook me, his hand gripping my arm painfully. His face looked paler than before (if it was possible) and his eyes were wide. "Bella," he breathed. "Did James do that to you each time your mother was gone?"

I must have spoken aloud or something while I relived part of a living nightmare because Carlisle seemed to know what had just happened. He would know from my file that James "took care of me" everyday while Renee taught students at the school.

"He did it because I was bad," I whispered.

Suddenly I was crushed to his chest as Carlisle pulled me up off the floor and over to the couch. He sat down, pulling me with him and never letting go of me as he wiped away the hot, sticky tears that had started down my face. His arm was still draped around my shoulders while the other one found my hand, squeezing it.

"No, Bella, you weren't bad. How often did he rape you?"

I looked away from him, not answering. Bree's voice filled my head for the first time in hours. _Ha, you're weak,_ she sneered._ I had fun watching that that particular _session_,_ I growled at her and she left me alone while Carlisle began to speak again, getting my attention. My silence had been enough of an answer for him.

"Bella, can you tell me exactly what happened to you that day?"

I shook my head, the tears that I had just managed to stop renewing themselves. A sob escaped my lips before I pressed them together again tightly. I could not let Carlisle see how weak I really was. Or was it that I couldn't bare to see how weak I myself was? This was the first time someone had even found out about what James had done to me—I felt naked with the secret out.

But wasn't there something like doctor confidentiality? Like Carlisle couldn't tell anyone what had just happened in here? Yeah, there was something like that. Then my secret was safe. For now.

I glanced at the clock again, blinking my tears out of my eyes so that I could see the time. The clock showed 4:55. How had the time gone by so quickly? Usually these appointments dragged out for what seemed like days.

Carlisle noticed where my gaze had landed and he signed heavily. Removing his arm from around my shoulders, he stood and walked over to his desk, grabbing a pen and a small rectangle of paper. "I'm going to give you my card and my number just incase you need to talk to me. Call me for anything, Bella. Don't worry about the time. Remember, I'm here for you," he smiled warmly at me just like a father would at their child. "I'm really happy with the progress we have made today, even if it seems like nothing at all."

He finished scribbling on the piece of paper and handed it to me. It was thick and cream colored—a business card. In neat gold print it read:

_Dr. Carlisle Cullen, M.D., Ph.D._

_Clinical Psychologist_

_Medical Doctor_

_Lic#PSY8146_

_Forks Community Hospital_

_530 Bogachiel Way,_

_Forks, Washington 98331_

_(360) 374-6271 ext. 1704_

It was a pretty, but simple, card and I flipped it over to see written on the back and beautiful curving writing:

_Cell: (370) 695-3666_

_Home: (370) 425-4242_

_Call anytime._

I was touched that he had given me his home number and stood, wiping away any tears that still lingered on my face. I tucked the card into my wallet and turned to Carlisle. "Thank you so much, Carlisle." Real gratitude was thick in my voice and I smiled again, a real smile.

"It's no problem, Bella. I'm here for you. Remember that."

I shook his hand as a goodbye and had just reached the door, my hand on the metal knob, when Carlisle called out to me. I turned; hand still on the knob, twisting it. "Yeah?" I questioned.

He smiled at me and said, "Don't take those pills anymore. Flush them, bury them if you like, but just don't take them." I smiled in response, turning my back on the office and striding out of the hospital. For once I felt happy, sincerely happy. Just then one session with Carlisle had brightened my mood completely, and for the first time in years I had smiled with my heart.

Little did I know that soon something was going to bring me down from the clouds and crashing back to Earth.

_Okay guys. This chapter was __**13**__**pages**__ in Microsoft Word. The address for Forks hospital is real (aren't you glad I did my research!) as is the hospitals phone number. The extension and Carlisle's cell and home numbers I made up, so don't go calling them! As is his license number. Sorry it's taken so long for me to update, but I've worked on my writing all week since I got back from Las Vegas and tomorrow I'm going to Boston for ten days so it'll be awhile before I update again._

_If there are some mistakes in the last half, I apologize._

_Thanks for reading and REVIEW!_

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	3. The Attempt at Freedom

**WARNING! STRONG MATERIAL THAT MAY NOT BE APPROPRIATE FOR ALL AGES IN THIS CHAPTER! **

**Rated M for coarse language and violent themes.**

Chapter Three:

The Attempt at Freedom

"How long did he abuse you?"

This was my third visit to see Carlisle, and consequently my third miserable week in Forks. My temporary high after seeing Carlisle for the first time a few weeks ago had been just that: temporary.

I had to admit, Carlisle was one of the nicest people I had ever met. Most people just whispered behind my back when they found out and normal doctors just didn't know what to do with me once they found out the entirety of my problems. But Carlisle had taken a huge leap of faith when he had told me to stop taking my meds. And so far, it seemed to have been the right decision.

Since I had stopped taking the multiple prescription medications, my emotions had much more stable and even Charlie who, quite frankly, was the King of Obliviousness and also hadn't known me that long, noticed a change in my behavior. The change had been nice, more than welcome, in fact.

Only one thing had changed that I didn't appreciate. I wasn't sure if the medications had actually helped to dim her voice, or if she was just even angrier at me than usual, but Bree was _louder_ than she had been previously. I was positive that the only reason she had suddenly become more vocal was because she was _furious_ at me for speaking with supposed 'vampires.' Pish, as if. Vampires were definitely not real, and this was probably just another of Bree's stupid plans to gain complete control of our body and make me go away. A very stupid one at that.

It wasn't right for her to do what she did—taking people's bodies for her own—but Bree could've cared less. She was selfish, and really only cared for her, as proven by her statement before that she was only trying to keep me alive because she didn't want to experience death again until she absolutely had too.

And, to add to her mile-long list of sins, she had specifically chosen to inhabit me because I had been suffering and in pain from the abuse that James had put me through. She fed off my pain and fear, relishing in it, even, and I had a lingering suspicion that she caused some, if not most, of my flashbacks in order to feel my remembered pain, which was still as fresh in my mind as if it had been yesterday that the atrocities had been committed.

But a few other things had also occurred since that first Monday here in Forks.

For one, Edward Cullen had taken a mysterious and unexplained absence for the following two days after our encounter in the miserably damp reaches of Forks High. But after he had returned, he seemed to forget our strange conversation and the fact that I even existed. He went on ignoring me like he did everyone else but his family, and I became distant from Mike, Jessica, and the others that sat at my old lunch table. I had taken to sitting by myself at the only empty table across the cafeteria from them. I was used to being alone, and rather liked it that I didn't have Jessica burning my ears off. I already had one annoying voice in my head, I didn't need two. Plus, I really never related well to kids my age, or maybe I just didn't relate well to people period. That was a rather depressing thought, but what could I do? I was simply a freak.

So, Edward was happy and spending all his time with his beautiful, perfect family. And all I could think while I was watching them from my desolate table while Jessica glared over at me every now and then with a stuck-up why-would-you-_not_-want-to-spend-time-with-_me_ expression on her face, was how much I wished my family was as _normal_ as theirs. But what really made me angry was that Edward didn't even so much as glance at me in Biology, where we were lab partners. Even on assignments where we were supposed to work together, he did his own thing, and I did mine. Not even a friendly hello or I'm-sorry-for-glaring-at-you-like-I-wanted-to-murder-you look. Edward Cullen was one _strange_ normal person.

For another, on an even more confusing note, Alice Cullen (yes, Edward Cullen's _sister_), had randomly come up to me after lunch and asked me to come shopping with her today. Weird? Yes. Something I was comfortable with? A _definite_ no. When I had turned her down, she had looked confused at first, and I couldn't blame her. According to Jessica, Alice had awesome clothes and a really good sense of fashion. But I could neither afford to go shopping for the latest fashion accessory, nor did I have the time for it. But I didn't tell her that the main reason I couldn't go was that I was going to be seeing her father for therapy that afternoon, or that I didn't like shopping.

And, strangely, right after that confused look graced her face; it was replaced by her happy, chirpy one, and then wiped off by an odd, vacant and far-away expression, as if she was seeing something that I wasn't. I had just began to contemplate waving my hand in front of her face when she snapped back to the present and smiled, skipping off and saying over her shoulder in her trilling, flowing voice, "Maybe next time then, Bella!" Her voice had caused a lot of undue staring at me, and I had walked off quickly, red-faced and eyes downcast, though secretly enjoying the look of utter astonishment on Jessica's and Lauren's faces, as if they were wondering why Alice Cullen hadn't asked _them_ to go shopping with her.

When I had told Carlisle of my day earlier, he had just chuckled and told me that Alice loved to shop and that he hoped she wouldn't one day "break the bank." It seemed like no surprise to him that Alice had invited me to go shopping with her.

"But she doesn't really even know me," I had argued. Carlisle just smiled.

"Quite the contrary. Alice has taken quite a liking to you. She does things like that sometimes, as if she just _knows_ that she'll get along with someone before she really knows them." There seemed to be a hidden meaning behind his words that I didn't understand.

But I think that the strangest—and quite frankly most disconcerting—thing that had happened was that—even though she was a _constant roar_ inside my head at every other time—Bree was dead silent during my sessions with Carlisle, except for a few, short comments every once in awhile. It was almost as if she simply retreated to another room for that one hour each week that Carlisle talked to me, and would only emerge if she heard something of interest, or the session was over.

I tried as much as I could to share everything with Carlisle, keeping in mind that he was trying to help me. But there was still one thing—one very _important_ key thing—that I kept from him simply because I was afraid that he would realize that I really did have issues: Bree.

Bree was the one thing that I had not even _hinted_ about. I would not—_could_ not—let him even guess that she existed. No one would believe she was a spirit wandering from body to miserable body when her most recent host died. No, then not only would they put me on even _stronger_ pills, but they would also have me committed for good this time.

Sometimes, I wondered if maybe I really was insane, if maybe I really did need to be locked up for my own—and others—good. But if there was one thing I knew, it was that I _did not_ want to be imprisoned in my special white-padded cell again, not so soon after finally escaping it. Being in that hell-hole was enough to make a sane person lose their marbles and start talking to themselves for real.

"Bella?"

I jerked away from my current train of thought, chagrined at the fact that I had spaced out on him yet _again_. He showed no sign of annoyance with me, only his usual patience and normal politeness.

"Yes?" I muttered, still embarrassed at the fact that I had faded out on him. I briefly wondered how long he had let me wander this time. The last time I had been in here in his office, he had let me go for ten minutes before waking me up to reality again. I had started to notice that I left the real world a lot, either going to my secret place where nothing could harm me (not even Bree) or just pondering what I knew of the world. I glanced at the clock. Only seven minutes this time.

Back in Phoenix, where I knew no one and therefore spoke to no one, I didn't notice when I left the real and painful world. But here in Forks where everybody knew everybody and your business was pretty much theirs, and I was still pretty much considered the 'new girl' by the whole population of this miserable (I've been using that word a lot, lately), rainy, little town, I was the one that was almost always watched, so people noticed when I got lost in my own little world.

"Thought for a moment that I had lost you there," Carlisle answered without missing a beat. Oh, how right he was. "I was just asking how long he abused you. Did it start at a certain time, or was it a gradual thing that slowly escalated?"

I stared at Carlisle like he had grown a second head before I was able to calm my suddenly racing heart and thoughts enough to answer him. "It started right after Renée married him," I whispered, so low that I was surprised he heard me. That was another thing, I could only bring myself to whisper about _him_ when talking about what he did to me, and I couldn't ever bring myself to say his name aloud, ever. I feared him that much.

"Did it get worse, as time went on?"

I understood that Carlisle was trying to get me to talk about it, to open up and get rid of some of my personal demons. I did make me feel a little better that I didn't have to bear all these secrets on my shoulders alone, but only a little. "I guess you could say that," I said, a slightly dark tone entering my whisper. "But that was only because he got more creative over time." Carlisle frowned, not seeming to have expected that answer. I quickly added, "That is, he was a smart man. Very, horribly, smart. Cunning, even," I hissed, disgusted. I was back in my customary position, knees brought to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. I was even starting to rock slightly back and forth, though I was trying to resist that development in my process of comforting myself. Next would be small flashbacks, followed by even longer, noticeable ones, if I allowed myself to reach that stage. I had been lucky enough not to have experienced any more flashbacks in front of Carlisle or anyone else. I didn't want him to see exactly how broken I was inside, I was embarrassed of it.

Carlisle's frown deepened, etching worry lines into his brow and around his eyes, though he looked much too young to have them. The upset expression on his face immediately made me feel guilty about putting it there on his handsome face. He seemed not to like the idea that I had presented him with upon my explanation. After a few moments of thought, he asked, "Would you tell me a little of what he did to you?" Even though Carlisle had picked up on the fact that I didn't like hearing _his_ name, it still sent me into panic, like always when he tried to ask for details.

I was hardly comfortable with saying that he hurt me, let alone details about the whole ordeal! But ever since the first session when I'd had a flashback right in front of him, he'd been prying for details, even asking whether or not I had more flashbacks, which I had reluctantly told him yes. I knew that later, I would feel better, even if now it felt like I never would. But I wasn't sure if I could do it this time, I was so close to my breaking point, all ready, and I was scared of the pain it would cause me if I told him.

_Weak_, Bree hissed from the recesses of my mind. She was right, I was weak, but there was nothing I could do about that.

Curling up into an even tighter ball at the end of the couch, Carlisle in his usual spot next to me on the sofa, I shook my head fervently no.

Carlisle's topaz eyes never left mine as he slowly began to scoot over from his side of the leather couch to mine. His rich butterscotch orbs were full of compassion and sadness as he stopped with his knee just barely touching the tip of my right, converse-clad foot. My folded legs were between us, by back against the arm of the left side of the couch. I wanted to disappear, to just vanish from the face of the earth. The look in his eyes promised that he wouldn't intentionally hurt me, but I couldn't make myself believe it.

It was quiet for a few, short minutes, a silence permeating the room that I desperately wished would never end. But, as usual, my wish was not granted.

"Bella…" he began softly, though his voice was deafening in the loud silence, drowning out the constant and assuring ticking of the little clock on his desk that counted down the seconds until I could leave the conversations of _him_ and go back to a seemingly normal life where no one knew of my trauma and I could pretend that it had never happened. "Please, tell me, please."

I only shook my head, not trusting myself enough to speak. I wouldn't, I couldn't. No, not now, please not _now_.

A single, solitary tear slid down from my eye, probably leaving a trail of black mascara after it.

Carlisle reached forward with one hand, ignoring my flinch in response, and wiped the tear and the trail gently away. His eyes were pleading, now. "Please, Bella? No one but me has to know. Please, let me help you."

I didn't want to, I didn't mean to tell him, but something inside me broke that the sight of those pleading eyes. I sighed and slumped forward. "Okay," I whispered, low. "Okay." It seemed that that single word was all I could say.

Carlisle smiled kindly, sadness still tingeing his expression black. "Okay," he repeated.

"What would you like to know?" I mumbled, a heavy weight on my black heart, crushing me.

Carlisle matched my tone and whispered, "What about what you remembered that first time in my office?" he suggested quietly. "Is that all right?"

Slowly, I nodded.

"What did he do to you?"

I winced as the memory was brought to the front of my mind, the pain it caused already ripping at my chest. I spoke anyway. The sooner I got it out, the sooner that the pain would end and I could fade away again to the place where nothing hurt anymore.

"I-I was six—," I broke off to fortify myself by taking a deep breath of air. "It had almost been a year since he and Renée had married. He-he was in charge of taking care of me in the afternoon since I was home from school and Renée was still at work. He-he—," my voice broke and trembled. My chest was ripping apart piece by agonizing piece, destroying itself as I remembered what I desperately wanted to forget, so badly wanted to forget that it was a separate pain altogether.

Carlisle reached out now and took my searching hand into his own icy cold one. It was only a small comfort, because _his_ had been sweltering hot and uncomfortable. Carlisle's were soothing. "It's alright. He can't hurt you know, I'm here. He can't hurt you."

I tried to smile to hide my fervent disagreement, though it came out more as a tear-filled grimace. I squeezed his hand. "He-he was a bit of a music fanatic. Only, the piano we had in the house had a short leg. Always tipping back and forth, so it was hard to play. Well, we couldn't fix it, so when Renée wasn't home, he'd make me hold it up." My voice fell short at Carlisle's widened eyes and horrified expression. I grimaced again, still trying to force out a smile. Both he and I knew pianos were heavy. With my free hand, I wiped away the salty rivets that had begun to cascade down my face anew and managed to finally fake-smile at him, while secretly my heart shredded itself into bloody, little pieces.

"But I couldn't do it that time. I was too sore, and I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. 'Hold it steady, Bella! Hold it steady!'" I was surprised that I was able to hold it together as much as I did as I repeated _his_ words to Carlisle. "When I dropped it he got really angry, and he slammed me into the wall." I paused yet again, taking a few calming, deep breaths. My voice was squeaky and uneven. But Carlisle holding my hand made it a little easier: he gave me the support I needed to finish telling him the memory.

"I hit the wall so hard it broke my arm, and then _he_ started to come at me. I screamed and banged on the locked door with my good arm. And then he—and then he—," I couldn't say it, I couldn't say the words. Somehow, it felt that by saying them, it made the whole thing real and not just some sick, twisted story from my imagination. That if I was to say it, it would make him come back. But Carlisle could say the words.

"He raped you."

The words rang with finality in my ears, making it true even though I didn't say it. The air seemed stiffer after he said it, and it was silent, once again, for a moment.

"Yes."

There, I had admitted it to myself, just not in so many words. "I wanted him to stop; I told him I didn't want it because it hurt. But he just didn't anyway, and he laughed at my broken body on the floor when he had finished." My voice was not my own, angry, vindictive. I realized for maybe not the first time that I _wanted_ him dead, I wanted him to die. Did that make just as bad a person as him? That I wanted him to cease to exist in my world?

I felt bitter, angry, and dirty. And not one bit better. Not one, tiny, little bit better.

* * *

Charlie still wasn't back from the station when I got home. I was glad—I wanted as much privacy as I could get with Bree around. I tossed my bag into the corner where the coat rack was and kicked off my converses, wanting to get upstairs as soon as possible. My mood had definitely taken a sharp plummet, and I honestly didn't feel like fixing anything up to eat. I just wanted to sit on my bed and blast my music to try to drown out the sound of Bree's criticisms in my head.

My room was a complete disaster, I realized, as I looked at it. I hadn't really been paying much attention to what I'd been tossing around in the last three weeks, and as much as it bothered me for the room to look like a tornado had ripped through it, I really didn't have the patience or the energy to clean it right now. So, I simply collapsed on the bed, pushing any clothes on it to the floor. Blindly, I reached out a hand for my dresser, searching by touch until I found the music player. As I had hoped (simply so I wouldn't have to get up to change the CD) the _Linkin Park_ CD I wanted, _Hybrid Theory_, was in it and I pulled the head phones on, turning the music up as loud as it would go. _Papercut_ started blaring in my ears and I sighed, leaning back my head and folding my arms behind it.

I didn't want to think—the purpose of playing the music so loud—but still thoughts ran through my head, prompted by Bree. Insults and words of hate, floating through my brain. She wanted me out, she wanted me gone, and nothing I could do would silence her. I thought grimly of what kind of future I would have with her in my head. How could I marry some nice boy and have children like everyone else on this planet with her constantly with me at all times? What would I do for a living with my typical behavior marring my record? My life seemed like dead end after dead end, and it was all because of her. I was helpless against her harsh words and actions. I had no real future with her around.

Suddenly I couldn't stand just sitting there in my chaotic room with her in my head. I needed to do something, anything. I roughly pulled off the headphones, discarding them on the bed and sitting up. A prickling sensation ran over me, making the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand up. It felt as if someone was watching me, and impulsively I turned to look out my dark window. Nothing seemed to be there, but I couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. I got up, walking out of the Room of Chaos and into the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror there caught me off-guard.

The girl that was me, or should have been me, was not looking back at me. In the last few weeks I hadn't been paying much attention to my appearance either and it shocked me how different I looked from what I had been expecting. My hair had grown shockingly fast, almost to my shoulders now, and my face had taken on an even paler complexion than before, so that my skin looked nearly transparent. My dark eyes stared out at me, desolate and hurt, while my clothes hung off my frame loosely.

Was this really me? I looked sick, my face sallow with bags under my eyes. I hadn't realized that I wasn't sleeping that well or that I had skipped that many meals. I pushed up the sleeves of my old red button-up shirt to stare down at the scars crisscrossing my forearms, some self-inflicted, others not. It had been a long time since I had last touched a razor with the intent to hurt myself—since before the Institute. The thin scars that had once been faded and only faint lines and raised bumps were now bright and very noticeable. It made me suddenly very glad that I could only wear long sleeves in this cold, miserable, little town. The scars would have raised questions that I was not willing to answer.

I suddenly felt a wave of self-disgust roll through me, so strong I almost doubled over. I was ugly, skeletal and pale. My eyes were hollow. On their own instincts, my hands went to the drawer and pulled out the scissors.

The emotions that roiled through me were strong, pulling and tugging at the pieces of my heart and making me want to cry out in pain, but my vocal cords were paralyzed—no, ripped out.

The straggly pieces of hair fell quickly to the ground as a mad fever rushed over me, my hands working even quicker with the sharp implement in my hand to cut away the hair to only a few inches long. When all the hair was gone, I dropped the scissors where they clattered to the floor. I felt cleaner, somehow less ugly. But I wasn't done yet.

I ran my hands over my new, short hair, violently shaking any lose strands away before I rushed into my room, plunging my hand under my bed and pulled out my secret item.

In the bathroom, I delved my hand into the box of black hair dye, not bothering in my haste with the gloves. I didn't care if it stained my hands black, it would show just how filthy I really was.

I fumbled with the cap to the bottle, finally popping it open. I lifted the bottle over my head and let the cold liquid drip onto my scalp, ignoring the burn as it touched cuts on my head from the scissors. I doused my hair in it, not caring as black rivets of dye dripped down the back of my neck and onto my shirt. Clothes no longer mattered to me any more. A void was forming in my chest, sucking up everything except my desperation and furious self-disgust. I was horrible, I didn't deserve to live, and I didn't _want_ to live.

Drops of black dye and salty tears hit the floor, the two intermingling. Black trails of mascara and eyeliner stained my cheeks, my eyes red and swollen. Finally, I just dropped to the floor and sobbed, the hair dye falling onto its side and leaking slowly onto the linoleum floor. My arms automatically wrapped around my knees and I rocked as I sobbed, hating myself.

Sometime during my crying, the feeling of being watched disappeared, and instead of relief, I felt true desolation. I was alone, completely and utterly alone. Bree only encouraged the idea, making me feel worse.

I don't know how long I was on the floor, feeling even worse than before, but it was certainly long enough that the black dye dried on the floor and in my hair, long enough that I still didn't feel better and that the dye had no doubt left streaks of hair so black they were blue and violet in color.

I managed to strip myself of my clothes before I stumbled into the shower, thinking that maybe the hot water would somehow magically relive me of my misery.

But it didn't, nothing ever did anymore.

The black tainted water flowed slowly down the drain in spiraling patterns, twisting this way and that. I sat until the water turned cold and almost ran clear. I sat until I could sit no more.

And then I had climbed out, deftly grabbing my towel and stepping over the dried dye and shed tears, over the mass of cut hair. I glanced at myself in the mirror, my now black locks plastered to my forehead, my hands still stained black and a few lines of black running faintly down my back.

I was numb, almost. Almost couldn't feel those emotions within that I hated, that I despised. But the little bit that I did feel was enough to send tears dripping down my face again and Bree to sneer and whisper snide remarks to me. But that didn't matter. It would all be over soon.

I dried, slipping into clean undergarments before putting on my black-stained clothes again and walking out of the disastrous bathroom to the storage closet.

There was a reason that, at the Institute, I had been placed into a padded cell. Back at the Institute, I had found a pocket knife under the mattress that had obviously been left by a previous occupant and overlooked by the staff. Instead of using it to try to slit my wrists, I waited until the last check on us during the night watch for the next hour and used it to cut up my sheets into long strips. I had wanted out of the hellish place, and Renée wouldn't even visit. She had simply dumped me there and left me, not bothering to call or send letters. I didn't even have some of my stuff from home, not even a perfectly harmless stuffed animal because Renée didn't give a shit about me.

I think it had been a month since she had ditched me there, and so I had come up with a plan to end my misery.

Tying the strips together, I made a noose.

I was going to hang myself, and hopefully by the time they found me, I would be dead.

Hanging the make-shift rope from the light suspended from the ceiling, I prepared to do it.

And just as I was about to jump off the bed and break my neck—end my misery—a nurse entered my room. You see, he had forgotten to give me my medication before lights out and had only just now remembered. I didn't have time to jump from my bed as he swiftly seized me by my knees and pinned me, lifting me up so that I couldn't go ahead and kill myself while he shouted down the hall for assistance.

That was the night that I was moved to the lonely padded white cell they called a room.

But that wouldn't happen this time—I would make sure of it. I would be able to do it before Charlie came home from the station, and he would be appropriately grieved that his only daughter had committed suicide and then he would move on. And Renée still wouldn't give a rat's ass about me, the evil bitch.

I found the rope, a little less than ten feet long in length. Walking over to the stairs, I carefully tied the knot in it and then tied the other end to the bottom of the upstairs railing. From where I was standing, if I stepped off the step I was on, I would swing forward, hopefully break my neck, and die. I was three steps up from the bottom one, and if I swung down, I wouldn't be able to get my footing again.

I took a deep breath, tears still coursing down my cheeks, and asked myself if I really wanted to do this. End my wretched life once and for all. The answer was obvious to me, and Bree's comments only made my decision even more final.

Yes.

I did want to.

Taking another breath, hopefully my very last, I stepped off the stair.

But only, I didn't break my neck.

Curse my dratted luck, I instead swung down and the noose tightened painfully around my neck, cutting off my air. My hands, unbidden, automatically went up to my throat and clawed at the rope, my legs flailing as I tried to breathe. Bree laughed manically in my head, drowning out all thought.

I could feel my lungs scream for air, my lips starting to turn blue just as the sound of two cars pulled up into the driveway. I faded away happily for the last time, my world turning black just as the engines cut.

_Okay, this chapter definitely didn't turn out like I thought it would. I might have to bump up the rating if the story continues on this level. Please review and tell me what you think. Even a simple: 'Nice. Update soon.'_

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	4. Dare to Die?

Chapter Four:

Chapter Four:

Dare to Die?

Carlisle Cullen

The roads sped by at incredibly fast speeds as I drove my Mercedes along the freeway to Bella's house. She had left my office as an absolute wreak, both emotionally and physically. I felt incredibly guilty for causing the massive shift in emotions earlier, and felt it was only right to go to her myself instead of waiting another week.

Bella had left a small keychain in my office when she had fled, in such a state of mental pain that she didn't notice when the charm had fallen off her backpack and onto the floor. I hadn't even noticed it, too involved with Bella to see the charm before it was too late to stop her.

Normally, I would have waited until our next meeting to give it back to her, but I felt guilty for causing her reaction and I also wanted to check on her.

It wasn't like I thought she would try to harm herself again…okay, maybe it was. Bella had a history of attempted suicides that I did not like to think about when combined with the fact that she seemed extremely depressed. She had been losing a lot of weight, and she looked pale, face drawn, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't concerned.

If it wasn't for that one fact, I would have thought we had made progress. She had finally opened up, after years of silence. I could tell she was relieved that at least someone was looking past the cover and into the book, and I was glad I could help. It was my job after all, and I had also formed an interesting connection with Bella over the course of the three weeks she had been in Forks. I had come to think of her almost like I would one of my daughters, and the fact that Alice had accepted her only made the connection stronger.

I was positive that no one in my family—even Edward, my lovely mind-reader of a son—knew about Bella seeing me for treatment. They all knew what I did, sure, but not who I saw. I took doctor-patient confidentiality to the extreme, given my strange circumstances. I didn't even think about my patients outside of work if I could help it.

I glanced at the keychain. It was resting on top of the dashboard, the little green frog barely bouncing at all as I drove over the bumpy road that my car handled so well. The frog was obviously handmade and only an inch tall. It was made of several different colors of green and entirely of tiny beads. It was a cute, three-dimensional charm that I suspected Bella had made when she was younger. The little eyes were black in color, and I smiled a little to myself. I was sure that Bella would like to have this little trinket back, and it might even make her feel better that I had come personally to give it back.

I turned onto her street, only to realize that a police cruiser was behind me. My first instinct was pull over, that is until I realized that the sirens weren't flashing and it was Bella's father, Charlie Swan behind the wheel. Fortunately, I had slowed down as I had entered the residential streets and together we pulled up to the brick driveway of his and Bella's house. I parked my car on the street and pulled the keys from the ignition, taking the frog keychain in one hand as I stepped out of my black car and stood swiftly, closing the car door behind me. Since we were in such a small town as Forks, I felt no need to lock my car as I put my keys in my jacket pocket. I was still in my white lab coat, having forgotten to take it off in my haste to finish my shift and get to Bella's house.

Before I had fully gotten out of the car, a strong and familiar scent had floated over to me; nearly knocking me over with the amount of surprise it sent through me at it being there in the first place—Edward.

The scent was fading, which meant he had just been here, but maybe left an hour or so ago.

Which led to the question, why was_ Edward_—of all people!—hanging around a human's house? I would expect that of Alice or Emmett, but not of Edward. He hated humans—to him they were cruel and insignificant. Maybe he had read Bella's mind and a spark of curiosity had ignited within him? Perhaps he had found something that wasn't all malice and hate within a human's mind? It sounded like something Edward would do—go to a human's home to study them. I would have to have a word with him later. It wasn't proper for him to do such a thing as spy on a harmless human, nor was it right to violate a human's privacy by doing such a thing.

It wasn't like I thought that Edward would actually listen to me and stop spying, unless he wanted to, but at least I would feel better knowing that I had tried.

Charlie looked at me in surprise. It wasn't quite sundown yet, and fortunately the cloud cover was still thick overhead, so I wouldn't have to worry about the sun until tomorrow. It also meant that Charlie could clearly see it was his daughter's doctor that stepped out of the fancy black Mercedes. I ran the hand that wasn't holding the keychain through my blond hair, a habit that Edward had picked up from me in the 20's.

To be honest, I was a bit scared of this human—me, a vampire, frightened of a mere human! It was laughable. But I really didn't want to tell him about why I was really here. _Hello, Mr. Swan. Why am I here? Oh, well, I just wanted to make sure Bella is okay, after all, she just told me that she was raped and abused repeatedly by her step-father, James, earlier. Would I like to stay for coffee? Sure, why not?_ Yes, that would go over very nicely with this police chief.

Charlie walked briskly over to me; face a jumble of emotions, confusion the foremost one. "Dr. Cullen," he said, voice mirroring his confusion, "what are you doing here?"

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the semi-lie I was about to tell. "Oh, please, call me Carlisle. I'm just here to check up on Bella and give her keychain back."

"Why? Did she not come to your office today?" Charlie's voice was wavering between confusion and something else I couldn't recognize at the moment. I didn't spare any thought to it.

"Oh, no, no, no," I said hastily. "She came, but as she was leaving she dropped this," I held up the keychain for Charlie to see in the fading light. His eyes lit in recognition, and he nodded. I continued, "I just wanted to give it back as soon as possible. It is quite the cute little thing, and surely I thought she would miss it."

"Yes, yes," Charlie said distractedly. "Why don't you come in? Stay for the game maybe?"

I smiled, "Sure, why not?" I almost grimaced at my choice of words. At least I wouldn't be staying for coffee.

Charlie and I walked up to the porch together, Charlie explaining what teams were playing as we reached the door. He opened the front door, unlocked like most doors were in this residential town. The sight that met me was enough to make my heart start beating again.

Charlie gasped, mouth opening and eyes widening. My reaction was exactly the same as I took in the sight before me quickly. From the front door you had a clear view of the living room down the hall and the stairs to the right. And, hanging from a rope above the stairs, was Bella.

Her hair was shorn and jet black, reminding me briefly of Alice, before my mind really comprehended the situation. The rope was tight around her throat, her lips and face starting to take on a bluish tint. Her bare, pale feet dangled above the bottom step, her body swinging slightly. That meant that she had just done this. Her faint heartbeat finally reached my ears, and suddenly I was interrupted from my thoughts by Charlie's cry.

"Bella!"

His tone was full of pain and fright, and with that one word my body became unfrozen and I sprung forward, dropping the beaded frog where it hit the floor with a soft clack. I surged forward, grabbing Bella just above her knees and lifting her up, shouting for Charlie to call 911 and to get a knife.

With one arm, I supported Bella's incredibly light frame, trying to prevent her from continued strangulation, for clearly she hadn't broken her neck if her lips and skin were turning blue. She was unconscious, and her heart was fading from me, her breath non-existent. Faintly, I could hear Charlie in the kitchen frantically explaining the situation to someone on the phone and where he lived.

With my free hand, I reached up to loosen the rope as much as I could. As it was, I could barely reach the rope with the tips of my fingers, and so I went back to holding Bella up until Charlie came back with a knife. My mind was racing, wishing that Charlie would suddenly have vampire speed to make him move faster. Bella's heart was getting fainter and fainter as each second passed, and I was afraid to think of what might happen if it continued on its path to ceasing her life.

It seemed so unreal, even as I held Bella up in my arms, that just a minute ago I had been nonchalant and only worrying about the_ if_'s. It was obvious that this was my entire fault. She wouldn't have done this if I hadn't pressed her. I had known she was depressed and had allowed her to leave my office in that state. But right now, I had to focus on keeping Bella alive, and then I could beat myself up about it later.

Finally, Charlie rushed out of the kitchen, a large cutting knife in hand, and I said, "Quick, cut her down, her heart is still beating but I don't know how long that is going to last."

Charlie didn't question me, just getting onto the second step and reaching up, sawing at the limp rope with the knife until it was completely severed. As soon as she was free, I was adjusting my grip on Bella's waist and was lowering her to the wood floor. Once she was down, I started CPR, pressing down onto her chest with my hands and tipping her head back to breathe into her mouth. Her color had not improved, and Charlie tossed away the knife, telling me quickly that an ambulance was on the way. I knew that he wanted to be useful, but there was nothing for him to do—

I was mid-compression when my phone started to buzz in my coat pocket. Charlie immediately grabbed it when I told him, opening it up and putting it to my ear. I asked distractedly, knowing that it had to either be the hospital or one of my family members, "Hello?" _Four, five, six._

"Carlisle? I saw something," Alice's voice, distressed and panicky, answered mine across the phone line. "It's Bella—she's going to hang herself, and you've got to get there before it happens—"

"Too late," I grunted, concentrating on my compressions.

"Oh. _Oh_. Sorry—"

But I had already dropped the phone, the tiny silver mobile clattering to the floor and disconnecting. I tilted Bella's head back and forced air into her lungs, praying that she would start breathing again.

I pulled back, checking her pulse and her breathing quickly for the sake of Charlie, though I didn't need it. She still wasn't breathing, and then I froze briefly before going into a frenzy of motion. Her heart had stopped. Completely and utterly stopped.

I began to compress her chest again, counting aloud now. "One, two, three, four—come on Bella!—eight, nine, ten!" I continued, breathing into Bella's lungs for her again. Finally, when it had been about five times that I had repeated this, I broke away, dry sobbing and angry. "Don't you dare, Bella, don't you dare die on me!"

I brought my fist down onto her chest, hard and directly over her heart. My eyes widened as it stuttered, before starting up in an unsteady rhythm, and I let out a strained laugh as Bella took in a shallow and equally unsteady breath of air. It rattled in her chest, and I let out my own unneeded breath, relieved. I could hear the sirens of the ambulance rounding the corner onto the street and lifted Bella up, carrying her to the door and down the steps, wanting to get her to the hospital as soon as possible. I wouldn't be able to do that again, and, if her heart gave out again, she would probably die.

The red and white vehicle came to a screeching stop in front of the pale yellow house, and the paramedics poured out of the ambulance, pulling out a stretcher for Bella and strapping her down to it. Charlie raced out of the house, slamming the door behind him as he rushed to the ambulance. I got into it with him and watched him as he held Bella's hand and tears poured down his face. He kept mumbling to himself, pleading with Bella to stay with him. I felt almost as if I was intruding on a private moment between the two. Charlie really did love Bella with all his heart and being, and I was starting to think that I loved her just as much.

It was hard not to like someone like Bella. She was kind (if reserved), sweet, beautiful, and a lovely person. I couldn't help loving her; especially after all she had been though. James had been a true monster to be able to do such a thing to her and so heartlessly, with no regret later.

How any human being could do that to someone—it was unimaginable. And yet, it was a very real possibility and something that had happened to so many people, but it somehow seemed worse when I applied the concept to Bella. I had dealt with so many cases of abuse in my career, but what James had done to Bella was unthinkable. Even from what I had just briefly heard, it was horrible, and I shuddered to think of what else he could have done to her. It was surprising that Bella could stand even being around people after that, let alone touching them. But then again, she'd had an aversion to people touching her when she was younger that didn't go away until her mother had sent her to the Mental Institution, where they had worked with her until she could touch people again. But I knew she still didn't like anything more than a casual handshake. I was truly blessed with the fact that Bella trusted me enough to let me into her little world.

As the ambulance woke half the town on its way to the hospital, I thought about that. Bella spaced on me so many times, sometimes I wondered if she wasn't quite as unscarred as she appeared to be. In many cases, victims of abuse had created their own worlds inside their head where they could escape reality for just a little while. Maybe Bella had such a place, and just wouldn't tell me.

But this wasn't the time to ponder this, Bella was injured and had almost died, might still die if we didn't take care of her right away. We would need a MRI to check for any brain damage from oxygen-deprivation, X-rays of her neck to see if she had any micro-fractures in her vertebrae, and would also need to hook her up to an IV and a heart monitor.

I noticed for the first time as I watched Charlie that Bella's hands were stained black, probably from the dye she had used on her hair, and I gazed upon her face sadly. I knew that Bella wouldn't care about the dye—to her it would show exactly how dirty she really was, even if the rest of us didn't agree. Her face looked as if she was sleeping, though it wasn't peaceful. It looked as if she was suffering from a vivid nightmare, her features contorted into a mask of fright and pain, her neck deeply bruised from the rope that had constricted around it.

The ambulance come up to the back entrance of the hospital, coming to a sudden stop and I helped to unload Bella from the metal cage-like thing, running in and explaining the situation to the other doctors and interns. They rushed her off to get a MRI, and I went with them as Charlie went to the payphone at the front desk, not allowed to follow.

All I could think, as I helped to lift Bella onto the table, was how sorry I felt for Charlie.

_Sorry it's so short. I tried to get it to be longer, but the two parts just won't go together. The next chapter is also going to be from Carlisle's POV, though hopefully only a part of it. I promise the next chapter will be longer._

_As most of you have probably noticed, I have bumped up the rating to M. I did it because of the dark themes and flashbacks of abuse that Bella will be having. THERE WILL BE NO LEMONS. I do not feel comfortable writing those, and this story is not about that, because for right now it is about Bella's recovery and problems. Rest assured, Bella WILL fall in love with Edward, but if things continue the way they are, not for awhile. There will be casual conversation between them, though, so don't worry._

_So, to satisfy your thirst (no pun intended) for the next chapter, here's a preview:_

As I looked down upon Bella's face, a commotion started up outside her door, and I turned around in time to see someone burst into the room, screeching at the top of her lungs at the hospital staff. I stood up from my chair beside Bella's bed to face her.

"Are you Carlisle Cullen?" I could only nod. "Okay. Well, that makes this a lot easier, then." And then she slapped me. Hard.

_Hope that keeps your brains reeling for awhile. Who is 'she'? And why did she slap Carlisle?_

_Review!_

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	5. Daggers Speak Louder Than Words

_Okay okay, I have an excuse! You see, my laptop just randomly died on me and we had to call HP and all that, and then the replacement laptop didn't come for weeks and weeks, and I sorta forgot how to write well. And then I had a bunch of school things, a paper on enlightenment, shadow puppet plays, and then preparing for my POL (something my school does instead of end of course exams). So, here is a nice, long, eventful chapter. All for you guys. Review, will you? Cause that would be awesome. Since I stayed up half the night to finish this._

_WARNING (not like I didn't say it last chapter, but whatever): intense scenes in this chapter. Like, really intense. Like really, really intense. Seriously. That's why it's rated __**M**__._

Chapter Five:

Daggers Speak Louder Than Words

Carlisle Cullen

The bright florescent hospital lights of Bella's room played harshly upon her face, causing her pallid complexion to look even paler and her short hair a flat, dull black. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that she was dead or a vampire like me, but I did know better. A brace surrounded her thin and bruised neck and an IV was stuck into the crook of her elbow, the line dripping clear liquid at a steady rate into her bloodstream.

I closed the hospital door quietly behind me, not wanting to wake Bella from her sleep. For once, she looked somewhat peaceful, and I didn't want to be the one to bring her out of her pleasant dream. It had been a rough night, but she had made it. There had been two more scares after she had been admitted, but they were just that – scares. Charlie had stayed with her all night, not sleeping at all after he had called Bella's mother, Renee, to let her know of what had happened.

I had only spoken to Renee a few times, once to set up a time for Bella to some see me, and one more time to inform her of any progress with Bella a week ago. I had not yet told her or anyone else of what Bella had been through, but I felt a certain distaste for the older (physically, anyway) woman. Though many parents do not notice abuse that may be happening inside their homes, when it was as clear as it seemed to be with Bella, a normal person would have noticed. Not only had Bella suffered from sexual abuse, but also physical and psychological abuse as well, and judging from her medical file, from all the times she had been to the ER, any normal parent that left their child alone with another person would have thought something was off, but not Renee. She didn't seem to care at all about what was happening to her child, and that made me angry. I didn't think that she contributed to the abuse, but she certainly hadn't helped by ignoring all the warning signs that something was horribly wrong.

And trust me, those warning signs were not your subtle stop signs, they were bright red and yellow road blocks.

Before Bella had turned six, she had only suffered from a case of food poisoning, a sprained ankle, and a broken arm from falling off a swing set at daycare. After James had come into her life and up until he had mysteriously disappeared after seven years of living with them, Bella had gone to the local hospital for five broken arms, a broken collarbone, three dislocated shoulders, a dislocated knee, a cracked femur, a broken ankle, a cracked skull…the list went on and on. It was one of the most extensive medical histories I had even encountered. Someone should have caught this, all these injuries couldn't have been caused by simple clumsiness, yet no one had, and the abuse had continued.

I pulled up a chair next to Bella's bed, sitting down and placing the container I had brought with me on the bed next to Bella's hand. Despite the fact that Bella had been completely scrubbed down by the attending nurses, the black stains from the hair dye Bella had used before her attempted suicide were still on her hands, none of the nurses caring enough (for they certainly weren't _busy_) to take the time to remove the stains from Bella's hands.

I pulled the wipes from the container I had brought, picking up one of Bella's hands in my own and started to gently rub away the inky black stains. It took awhile to completely rid her small hands of the dye, but when it was gone, I smiled down sadly at her sleeping face.

Bella didn't deserve any of this. She didn't deserve the hell that she was put through daily both when James had been in her life and after he had left. I knew that every time her eyes glazed over, every time she tried to sleep, the nightmares of what he did to her haunted her. It made it even worse that he was supposed to take care of her, that she had trusted him to take care of her, and he had betrayed that trust. That no one had cared enough about her to try to stop it, not her mother, not her teachers, not the medical staff who didn't think to look at her medical records each time she came into the ER.

A sudden commotion started outside, and I looked up at the door. A woman's voice was arguing with one of the nurses, and then the door to Bella's room was being opened. I knew instantly that the woman that walked in was Bella's mother, Renee. They looked strikingly similar, only Renee was older and with shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes. Her face was severe though, and she looked positively livid. I stood, watching her as she entered the room, putting down her purse. One of the nurses rushed in after her, looking at me frantically. I waved the nurse off and she reluctantly left the room so that it was only me, Renee, and a sleeping Bella.

Renee walked over to me, her heels clacking intimidating against the hospital floor. She emanated coolness and composer, and she would have been beautiful even by vampire standards had there not been a look of distaste seemingly permanently plastered onto her face. Her features seemed pinched, and she glared at me. "Are you Dr. Carlisle Cullen?"

I could only nod dumbly, too astonished by the presence of this woman to do anything else. I knew Charlie had called her to inform her of what had happened to Bella, but seeing her here in person shocked me. I was sure Renee didn't care at all about her child, made even more certain by the fact that she had not once glanced at Bella since she had entered the room.

"Good," she said in an emotionless voice, eyes growing colder, something I had thought would have been impossible. "That makes this a lot easier then."

I saw it coming, but I didn't stop it, though I most definitely could have. I knew that I deserved it, what with my part in Bella's attempt at death, but I should have gotten it from someone like Charlie – who actually cared for his daughter – not Renee. I let it happen though, because I knew Charlie would never do it, so I would settle for Renee doing it.

Renee brought her hand back and slapped me. Hard. For a seemingly frail-looking woman, she was quite strong. It didn't hurt, and I had to admire her for the simple fact that she didn't show the pain that she was obviously feeling from hitting my stone-like skin. And then the screaming started.

"I PAY YOU HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS EACH _WEEK_ TO MAKE THIS _THING_ GO AWAY, AND WHAT HAPPENS?!" she screeched at me, having no problem with getting in my face and shoving my chest. "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENS; MY DAUGHTER DISGRACES ME AND TRYS TO _KILL_ HERSELF! THIS IS YOUR_ ENTIRE_ FAULT!"

Her speech only solidified my disgust for the woman standing before me. Of course it would be about her and her money, not her daughter _almost dying_. I had to refrain from wrinkling my noise and glaring at her. Instead, I simply stepped back from her and tried to calm her down, my face impassive. "If you'll just listen for a moment, I will explain –"

"I DON'T WANT YOUR EXPLAINATIONS!" Renee continued to rant, but my attention wasn't on her, but Bella. Her deathly pale face was contorted, pain and anger on it as she twitched. Her eyes moved beneath her lids, and fear crossed her face. I could have given anything at that moment to have Edward's power to read minds, simply so I could know what Bella was seeing at that exact moment to disrupt her peace. Renee's shrill voice caused me to tear my eyes from Bella's face, and I looked at the woman, not even bothering to hide my annoyance and anger anymore.

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?" she yelled in my face.

I was about to answer with a sharp and somewhat rude 'no,' when another voice joined the conversation, if you could call it that. It was a voice I knew so well, but never before had I heard it so angry, so furious. It was Bella's, and she was awake.

"How dare you?" she screamed at Renee, sitting up straight in the hospital bed, eyes full of complete and utter hate. "How _dare_ you come in here, expecting to be the _perfect_ mother, acting all concerned?!" Bella was throwing off the sheets, standing and trying to advance on her mother, only to be tethered by the IV line in her arm. She glanced at it once before ripping off the tape holding it in place and pulling it out. I almost stopped her, but I knew that this side of Bella was a force to be reckoned with, and that deep down, she needed this, needed to stand up for herself for once in her life. So I stayed silent and didn't move.

"Don't you dare speak to me that way, Isabella," Renee said reproachfully, glaring icily down at her daughter. "I am your mother and you will listen to me."

At this Bella burst out laughing, sending shivers down my spine at the amount of hate in it. She glared forcefully at Renee. "Mother? You are no mother of mine. Where were you when I needed you? When He was hurting me?"

"Not this again," she muttered. "You know as well as I that James never laid a finger on you."

Now I was angry. She knew of what was happening and chose to not listen? I wanted to murder her.

Bella started screaming at Renee, and launched herself at the older woman. I hit the button for security and then grabbed Bella lightening fast, thrusting her down onto the bed and pinning Renee to the wall as she tried to step closer to her daughter.

"Let go of me!" Renee yelled, trying to free herself from my iron grasp. "You can't honestly believe this little brat! She's insane, delusional, making up stories so that she can get attention!"

I didn't say anything, just letting security pull her away towards the door. "You can't keep me away from my daughter. I'm her mother!"

"I can if I believe you are a threat to her," I growled. I knew I had no proof; I couldn't keep her away without revealing what Bella had told me under doctor-patient confidentiality. But maybe if I told her that I could, she'd stay away.

Renee figured out that I was bluffing though. "You can't keep me away," she sneered. She shrugged off the security guards and walked over to Bella bed, tossing her purse onto the nightstand. As much as I wanted to make her go away, I knew I couldn't. I gave Bella an apologetic look and then my pager beeped, reminding me that I had other patients I had to attend to besides Bella.

Glancing back one more time before I left, I saw Bella glaring at Renee and Renee walking around, rearranging things in the room.

* * *

Isabella Marie Swan

I was, among several other things, pissed.

How _dare_ she? How dare she come into my life after nearly a month of absolutely _no_ contact, and expect that I wouldn't reject her? And here she was, going around hitting doctors, _my_ doctors, who for all intensive purposes no one had the right to hit but _me_, and acting like the poor, sad, caring mother.

Well, I had only one thing to say to her.

F*** you, bitch.

Okay. More than one. Several things in fact ran right through my head as I watched her waltzing around, trying to put her touch on this god forsaken hospital room, like it would make anything better, like it would change anything. I gripped the sheets to stop myself from getting up and hitting her.

It was so strange, being so angry. Never before had I stood up for myself, I wasn't the weak, defenseless Bella right now, though I could feel my adrenaline rush starting to fade. I just wanted to leave; I wanted her to leave with her goddamn high heels and her stupid purse. She had never listened to me when I begged for her to make James go away. She thought I was doing it for attention. Bitch.

I lay back against the uncomfortable and lumpy bed, facing away from her. She wasn't worth my time. She was only my mother in blood, nothing else. As far as I was concerned, she could rot in hell. She definitely deserved it.

"_Mommy," I said, climbing up onto the couch next to her. "I wanna tell you something, but James told me not to."_

_Mommy glanced down at me from the TV, "What Bella?" She sounded a little annoyed, and I frowned in confusion. Why was she annoyed with me? Did I do something wrong?_

_I had to tell her though. It felt wrong, and it hurt, what James did to me._

"_Mommy, James hurt me yesterday. He touched me and it made me uncomfortable." I looked down at my lap, feeling slightly ashamed._

"_When you do something bad, Bella, you have to be punished. You know that." She didn't look away from the TV._

"_But Mommy, he touched me down here," I gestured to the place between my legs. "And it hurt a lot. It didn't feel right."_

_Suddenly Mommy grabbed my arm, squeezing tightly. I squealed. "Ouch! Mommy, that hurts!"_

"_Don't you ever say anything like that again, Isabella Marie. Don't tell lies. We both know James would never do that to you."_

"_But Mommy," I cried, tears streaming down my face, "I'm not lying!"_

_Mommy slapped my cheek, only making me cry more. "You are Isabella. Say that you are."_

"_I'm not! James hurt me! Why don't you believe me?" I wailed. She slapped me again._

"_Because you're lying."_

_She pulled me over her lap, yanking down my pants. I just cried as she spanked me, telling me, "Lying is bad Isabella. It makes you dirty. Say that you lied and you're sorry."_

_I cried and cried, shaking my head. "Mommy, if I tell you that, then I'll be lying to you and that's bad!"_

_At that moment, James walked through the door. He grinned as he saw my tear streaked face, and then removed the expression when Mommy glanced over at him. "Bella has been lying," she explained. "She said horrible things about you. I know that it can't be true, so I'm punishing her."_

_James nodded his head. "Yes, Bella," he said as he stopped next to us on the couch. Mommy stopped spanking me and let me pull up my pants over my sore bottom. I stood and looked up at James in fear. Would he hurt me again because I told? "Here, I'll take you upstairs for your bath, it's getting late." He grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs, once we were out of Mommy's sight, he turned on me, gripping my arm painfully. Tears started down my face again as he whispered harshly to me, "What do you think you're doing? I told you not to say anything! You're just lucky that Mommy doesn't believe you," he sneered at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, tensing up. He was going to hurt me again._

_James then pulled me up the stairs quickly and stopped at the top. "Now I have to teach you a lesson. I don't want to, but you don't give me any other choice." Then he smiled, his eyes glinting, and I was tumbling down the stairs._

_I screamed in pain as I landed at the bottom. My arm was throbbing worse than when James hurt me yesterday, and he glared at me from the top before shouting "Bella!" in a voice that screamed false worry for my well-being. I looked over at my arm and then away quickly. It was all bent and something white was sticking out of my skin. I cried as James and Mommy helped me into the car to take me to the hospital. I had learned my lesson._

_I wouldn't be doing anything that James didn't like for awhile._

By the time I came out of the memory, Renee was leaving to go find Charlie. Once she was gone, I knew I couldn't stay here. Not with her. Not after what she had done to me.

I got up quickly, slipping out of the bed and walking barefooted in the ugly hospital gown out of my room. I would run away, I would go somewhere, if for a little while. I knew I'd have to come back at some point, but for now, it would be nice to be in the numbing cold. Anywhere but here.

I sprinted past the receptionists desk, running as fast as I could. It wouldn't be long before someone realized their suicide patient was missing, and when that happened I wanted to be as far away as possible. I was pumping my short legs as fast as possible, breathing heavily as I ran as fast as I could out into the cold, ignoring my feet as they started to cramp up from the cold concrete.

The sky was grey and overcast, and it wasn't raining for once. I only had to make it across the parking lot and then across the main road, and I would be in the forest. Sweet escape.

Panting, I run into the empty main road, less than fifteen feet away from sanctuary. I was so close –

But then a silver Volvo was suddenly in my way, skidding to a stop on the slippery road right in front of me. I tried to go around, determined not to be stopped by this insignificant being. It didn't dawn on me that only one person in this little dreary town owned a silver Volvo, I was too desperate to make it to the woods. But then he was there, grabbing me.

I screamed and screamed, struggling as Edward Cullen wrapped his arms around be from behind and lifted me up off the ground with no effort at all. My arms were pinned to my sides, and no matter how hard I kicked, I couldn't hit his legs as he slowly walked back to the hospital, my prison.

I was still screaming profanities at him as we entered the front lobby, attracting the attention of the people waiting in the lobby, the staff, and the security guards. I was trying to move, trying to get out of his steel grip, but I couldn't. Then Carlisle was there trying to calm me down, pushing back my short hair from my forehead. No! No, let me go!

He was handed a needle, and I suddenly became scared, but I didn't stop struggling, no, I wouldn't let him stick _that thing_ in me. There was no way in hell. Then I'd be stuck here.

"Bella, I'm going to have to give you a sedative if you don't calm down right now." Carlisle's voice was as calm as ever. I just screamed again at him and Edward and everyone else who was stopping me from leaving.

I felt a sharp prick, and then things started to get a little hazy. There were two Carlisles and I blinked, trying to put them together.

* * *

The first thing I was aware of was the horrid headache that was pounding through my temples. I groaned, trying to turn over and bury my head away from the bright light trying to get through my eyelids, but I couldn't move. I groaned again and opened my eyes, immediately closing them again at the assault of light. I was tied down. In a hospital room.

Then everything came rushing back, and I remembered why I was stuck here. I groaned yet _again_. Life was stupid. Then I remembered the restraints. I didn't do well with restraints, no, not after what He did to me so many times with them.

Carlisle was next to the bed, judging by the proximity of his voice. But I wasn't about to check, or anything, I was too focused on not remembering what He did to me so many times. Carlisle's voice helped calm me down.

"Bella, I'm really sorry that we had to restrain you, but you didn't give us another choice."

I just turned my head away from him, utterly pissed.

"You've been asleep for awhile now, maybe twelve hours."

That was a bit of a shock, and I turned back to look at him before looking away again. I noticed that they had reinserted my IV, only this time it was in my other arm.

"I'm sorry that she has to be here," Carlisle told me softly. I glanced at him, raising my eyebrows at him. "I don't like her either," he continued, "but I can't make her stay away without proof she is a danger to your health, and I don't have that, so for now she has to stay."

"She's a bitch," I told him. "And I know that whole spiel on how hate is an 'unproductive emotion,' but I do hate her. I really, really do."

"I understand," Carlisle said his topaz eyes sad. "She ruined your life. She could have stopped him from hurting you but she didn't."

"Damn straight," I muttered.

"Look, if you promise not to run away again, I'll unbuckle the restraints. But you have to promise."

I watched his face carefully before I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I grumbled, just wanting to be alone. Renee wasn't in the room, and Carlisle explained to me as he was taking off the restraints that she and Charlie had gone to the Cafeteria to eat. I felt bad for the poor guy, but better Charlie than me.

Once I was completely free of the restraints, I curled up on my side, facing away from the door and Carlisle. He sighed, and I imagined him running his hand through his hair in mild frustration. "I'll come back in a few hours to check in on you, okay?" he asked, his hand on my arm. I just nodded, trying not to think about unpleasant things, focusing on Carlisle's cold hand as long as I could, knowing it would help. The cold always helped.

But no matter what I did, I knew it was coming. One of the memories that I tried so desperately to fight off. I didn't want to see it, I didn't want to know which one it would be this time. Bree would enjoy it though, she always did, she always enjoyed my pain. And this time I couldn't stop it no matter how hard I tried.

_The blade in my hand shone in the bright florescent light of the upstairs bathroom. The blinds of the window were drawn so that no peaking eyes could see in. It had been going on for awhile now, it was the escape from reality that I so desperately wished to have. He didn't suspect what had been going on for months now; He never needed to take off all my clothes to hurt me down there._

_The reminder of what He had done to me just minutes before caused me to wince, the pain between my legs intensifying as my mind wandered back to that. But, no, I couldn't think about that now, it hurt too much to think about that. I focused on the task at hand right now, soon the pain would ebb away in the rush of relief that the blade would cause. Who knew that such a tiny piece of metal could be so enticing, so powerful? It was pain that I could control, the one thing in my life that I alone could control. No, He could take away my free will, my life even, but He couldn't take this. This made the bruises and broken bones leave my mind, this made even Bree fade just a little. This was my only solace._

_Rolling up my sleeve, I bared my left wrist, looking at the angry red cuts, some fresh from yesterday, some old and scabbed over. I had discovered this relief a few months ago, and it made me the happiest I had been in years, forcing all stress and pain and anger from my mind if only for a few minutes._

_I pressed the blade that I had pried carefully from a razor Renee had in the shower to my arm, right at my pulse point. It hurt, stinging and I almost recoiled from the biting pain, but I knew that soon enough the elating rush of bliss would come, and I would be happy again._

_I dragged the blade slowly over my arm, relishing in the pain and the numbness that followed as I continued to cut over and over again, over my arms, over the horrible aching spot in my chest, hoping that maybe, just maybe I could cut out the darkness and pain,, hoping that I would get rid of the monster inside of me that made everyone hate me so much. Maybe if I suffered enough it would go away._

_I laid my head back against the wall and slid down to the tiled bathroom floor, laying back and relaxing, enjoying wave upon wave of bliss that raked through my body and then the return of the stinging pain that made me grin. Masochist – that was what Renee said people who enjoyed inflicting pain upon themselves were. I guess that made me a masochist._

_I dropped the razor blade on the floor next to me, wishing I would cut my legs as well, but knowing that if I did, He would find out and I didn't want to think of what He would do when He did. Closing my eyes, I sighed. Soon, I would have to go back out there and please Him again. Soon, I would have to be beaten again and again, just to please Him. But not now, right now I could just lay here in peace. I tried to ignore Bree as she snickered inside my head. I didn't like Bree from the start. She was mean, selfish, and liked it when I hurt. She wanted control of my body and was furious because she couldn't have it for some reason._

_I was knocked out of my thoughts as the door started shaking and rattling, banging loudly against the frame as He tried to open it. I jumped up, blood pounding through my veins as I looked around, grabbing my long sleeved shirt that I had thrown onto the ground and trying to pull it over my head. He couldn't find out, He would only hurt me. I could tell He had already started drinking as His voice floated to me through the shaking door, full of malice, anger, and undisguised hate._

"_Open the door, Bella!" He shouted. "Open the door and _maybe_ I won't hurt you." I was still trying to pull the shirt over my head, heart pounding painfully in fear, when the door was thrown open, the lock snapping. The edge hit me as it was forced open, and I fell painfully to the ground, screaming as I landed on my cut and bruised body. Tears coursed down my face as I screamed again, this time in fear. I cowered into the wall as He grabbed my bloodied arms, dragging me up. His dark eyes glared down at me, eyes taking in my shirt, only one sleeve on, the rest of it dangling. He was breathing heavily as He started to scream at me and my sobs became louder, even though I knew they would only make things worse._

"_SO THIS IS WHAT YOU DO TO YOURSELF?! HUH?" He shouted, shaking me. "ISN'T IT ENOUGH, WHAT I DO TO YOU? WHAT, DO YOU NOT LIKE IT? WOULD YOU RATHER THAT I DO THIS INSTEAD?" He grabbed the forgotten razor blade from the floor and tossed me down, ripping off my clothes until I lay naked, shaking on the tile and crying. I tried to get up, tried to run away, knowing that I couldn't, that He was stronger, faster, smarter than me. His nails dug into the skin of my forearm, leaving bleeding crescent moons. I cried, screaming for Him to stop, pleading with Him to leave me alone, to stop hurting me, but He didn't listen, straddling my waist and bringing the razor to my skin over and over again, never pausing, never stopping, flipping me over and carving His name into my back. The pain was over whelming, the salt tears pooling on the floor beside me, burning as it made contact with my ruined skin. The pain was not good this time, no bliss came with it this time, only stinging pain, only He ran through my mind, His face burned into my memory as He tortured me._

_It was hours, it had to be hours. He didn't stop, not until nearly every inch of my arms, legs, chest, and back held cuts that He had inflicted. I cried until I had no tears left and screamed until I had lost my voice, shaking as He got up and curling onto my side on the red floor. My blood was smeared over the floor, my blood. It was matted in my hair and sticky on my skin. It brought me no pleasure at all, seeing it. I gasped as I felt His hand on my right shoulder blade, where He had carved His name so deep, over and over again, so unlike the rest of the cuts, all shallow except for the place where His name was. I knew it would scar, and I would be marked forever, forever _His_._

_He leaned in close, His breath hot and moist against my ear. "You. Are. _Mine_. Let this be a lesson to you. Only I can mark you, only I can inflict pain upon you." He gripped my shoulder, the one that He had carved His name into, and I gasped, crying again. "Oh," He whispered to me, squeezing me again, "this is only the _beginning_ of what I will do to you." And then I heard the sound of the medicine cabinet opening and closing, and He opened something before pouring it on a cloth in front of me. He placed an open brown bottle next to my face, and I read the words with muted horror: Hydrogen Peroxide. And then a whole new sort of hell began as he started to pour it over my wounds. I screamed._

Gasping, screaming, I sat up, ripping out the IV in my arm, rolling out of bed and grabbing Renee's still remaining purse. She had gone to eat, not ever thinking of what was in it that I could use to gouge out the pain and blackness in my broken and ruined soul.

Then I was in the bathroom, locking the door, ignoring the banging of the nurses as they tried to open it, only focusing on removing the horrid hospital gown and brace from my body and flipping open the pocket knife. I knew I had only a matter of minutes before they found a key that would unlock the bathroom door, so I had to do it fast. I had to feel clean; I had to remove the dirt.

My face was gaunt in the mirror, and I glanced away from my disgusting and scarred body, knowing that someone, a nurse, a doctor, had already seen my disgusting body when they had removed my clothes to but me in the gown.

I turned around, the bright, white scar on my shoulder blade standing out among the other lines on my body. His wretched name engraved in my skin.

_**JAMES**_

I had to get rid of it, I had to get rid of any trace of Him, I had to be clean. I had to try.

It hurt, it hurt so bad as I reached back, drawing the knife against my skin again and again over His name, but no matter how much blood flowed or how deep the cuts were, His name still showed through, still owned me. Bree cackled, laughing at my panicked state, loving my distress and pain, like she always did, egging me on with her cruel and harsh words.

I cried, screaming to myself, and the pounding became more frantic. I could hear Carlisle on the other side of the door.

"Bella, Bella, listen to me! Open the door!"

I was becoming dizzy with the blood loss, the room was spinning, red coated the floor, the sink, my hands, as I dropped the knife, swaying, my vision blurring. I was seeing double, disoriented.

There was a splintering sound, the door cracking as it was kicked it. I screamed and screamed, it was Him, it had to be Him. He had kicked in the door too, that day. I collapsed, my screams dying as cold hands caught my body, rolling my over onto my stomach. Carlisle's beautiful face and blond hair entered my vision, red blood on the one hand I could see. My blood, I realized.

His eyes were angry, cold, black with rage. His other hand was over my throbbing shoulder, horror dawning over his face as he realized what was there beneath the blood. "Why?" he gasped, and I sighed, a blissful expression crossing my face. I knew I sounded demented, knew I probably looked it, too.

"I had to be clean," I explained calmly as I started to fade again into unconsciousness, content. I smiled, staring up at him.

"I had to be clean."


	6. This Time

_There have been questions as to whether this was an Edward/Bella story or a Carlisle/Bella story, and let me say simply this: this is an __**E/B**__ story. Carlisle is more of a father figure than anything, the first father figure Bella really has ever had. _

_And by the way, review guys! Please? It makes me want to write faster!_

Chapter Six:

This Time

Carlisle Cullen

"What made you do it?"

It was a simple question with a not so simple answer. I stared at Bella's pale, but alert, face in the room we had moved her to in the Psych Ward of the hospital. We couldn't risk Bella hurting herself again, but I had managed to convince my colleges that Bella did not need to be put into a Mental Hospital. I was still unsure as to why I had refused to let her be moved there, when any other patient I would have recommended, but I had a feeling that she was better off here under my supervision at all times, than in a blank and lonely room in the middle of Seattle. As it was, this room had no pictures and the one window was made of plastic so that it wouldn't break. The door had a keypad instead of a handle, and the 'bathroom' was a metal toilet, a metal sink with buttons you pushed for water, and a small shower unit that was made of clear plastic just like the window with a button you had to push for water like the sink. The floor and walls were made of a plushy white material so that if the patient fell or tried to hurt themselves, they would not be injured. Overall, the effect of the room was quite depressing.

Bella was across the room from me in the farthest corner from the door, huddled into a little ball under the one window. She was dressed in white scrubs that were standard issue in this section of the hospital, and because of the way she was positioned I could see the outline of the gauze we had placed over the self-inflicted wound on her back. I shuddered to myself, remembering how she had gotten it and the look upon her face as she explained so calmly to me why she had done it.

I had received the page fairly quickly, the beeping alerting me that something was wrong in Bella's room. I had sprinted there as fast as possible while still looking human, only to find the bed empty and three nurses banging on the bathroom door with their fists, trying to force it open. Bella's screams echoed harshly through the door and I rushed to it, joining the nurses as I began to pound on it too. I would not use my vampire strength until absolutely necessary, and I yelled through the door, pressing the side of my face to it, "Bella, Bella, listen to me! Open the door!"

Her screams only became more insistent, fear and pain both expressed in her shrill voice. I pushed the nurses back and then kicked the door. It cracked with a nasty splintering sound, and suddenly Bella's screams were only of fear as she begged for her unseen foe not to hurt her. I leapt into the bathroom, only pausing for a split second at the ghastly sight before me.

Bella lay covered in blood on the tiled floor, naked and scarred. Her crimson blood was splattered across the walls and mirror, making it look more like a scene from Texas Chainsaw Massacre than a hospital bathroom.

Rage filled me as I realized that most of the scars had to have been inflicted upon her by James, and I knelt down on the floor next to her, shoving away the pocket knife that she had somehow acquired and turning her over onto her stomach so I could find the source of all the blood.

I was positive that I looked absolutely murderous as I saw what was on her shoulder blade. She had taken the knife and tried to cut it out, tried to cut away the offending piece of flesh that was marred by the deep scarring and even the gruesome gashes she had made could not hide it from me.

Etched deep into the skin was the name _**JAMES**_. It shone white through the red blood that still poured in rivers down her pale and boney back. I placed a hand over it, both to keep more blood from leaking out of her body and to hide it from the nurses' prying eyes as they rushed around trying to find gauze to bandage her up. I couldn't stop myself as I gasped, "Why?" I had to know, had to know what had triggered this latest incident.

Her face contorted, her eyes widening. Her voice was lilting, mad, when she spoke, too calm to my ears. "I had to be clean," she murmured, as if explaining that one plus one equaled two to an angry toddler. She sounded demented, insane, as she repeated herself again, content with what she had done.

"I had to be clean."

I shook myself away from the memory quickly, waiting for Bella's answer. As procedure, I had taken off my tie and belt before coming in, along with any other sharp implements that she could use to harm herself or me with. Now, I sat in the corner with my back against the door, my knees bent and my arms balanced over them. I had even taken off my shoes so that I appeared as a more permanent fixture and at home, not just her psychiatrist who occasionally frequented her life. I was the perfect picture of ease, and defenseless in her eyes. No one had been allowed to visit her since we had moved her here, and once she had woken up I had come in and explained to her where she was and why. I had been here about an hour now, just sitting in silence until I felt she was ready to hear me ask about the incident.

And now, here we were and she still hadn't spoken—hadn't glanced at me once. It wasn't until several minutes later that she spoke, and when she did she painted a violent and bloody scene in my mind of James as he cut her again and again, carving his name into her shoulder and then slicing her body until she could no longer cry or scream in pain. And then, how he had whispered to her that he was the only one who could inflict pain upon her and she belonged to him. I could only listen in horror as she told of how he then took the hydrogen peroxide from the bathroom cupboard and covered her skin in the burning substance. I wanted to cry for her, as I watched her huddle even farther into the white padded corner of the room across from me, her little bare feet pressed into the floor and her toes curled with the effort to keep the memory from taking over again. Her fingers dug into her arms and she forced her face into the space between her knees, closing her eyes.

My heart ached and squeezed. I could only imagine the pain she had gone through in that memory alone. She had resorted to cutting as a source of control, the only control that she did have whatsoever, and he had then taken it from her and used it against her. It had been the thing that had truly broken her, the lost of all power that she had once had. I wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her, but I was afraid of how she would react to my hands touching her. She didn't seem to have too extreme of a reaction before, but I didn't want to test it. I felt a strange connection to her, almost like I was her father. I certainly felt protective of her in that way. There was love blooming too, not romantic in any way, but…like the kind I felt for Edward and Alice and the rest of my children. And I was furious, both that I was letting myself get so close to a human when I knew we would be moving in a few years yet again, but also that someone had harmed this girl that clearly could not defend herself. If James hadn't already disappeared, I would have hunted and killed him. The thought surprised me—never before had I killed (or wanted to kill) a human.

She was shaking now, crying loudly in the enclosed room. I could smell the salty tears coursing down her face and her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Before I knew what I was doing, I was suddenly right next to her, my back against the wall so that she had a full view of me just a few feet away from where she was. I had to turn my head to look at her and I also had my knees bent in that same casual style as before. I stared at her puffy eyes, noting the horribly familiar green tone they took whenever she cried. It made me sad that I could recognize the specific color they turned when she was sad or angry, or any combination of the two.

I reached out gently, knowing that it would help her, though at the same time it would only increase the feelings for her that were budding within me. Yet, though my brain screamed that I should just leave like any other _sane_ doctor would do, my heart and soul told me that what I was doing was the right thing for her. She needed someone to help her, she needed someone who really understood and cared about her.

I ran a hand through her shock of black hair softly, smiling sadly at her. Suddenly she was clutching at my shirt desperately, sobbing as she shifted over to bury her head in my chest. I automatically put my arm around her, thinking back to how I had done the same thing to little Alice when she had discovered the truth behind her past—that she had been hurt by her father and sent to a Mental Hospital to keep her from telling anyone what he did to her. My dear little Bella, she was so similar to Alice when she had recovered her memories all those years ago. I wanted to cry for her, and it only made it worse that I couldn't express how sorry I was. For her and everything that had ever happened to her.

I pulled Bella closer and ran my hand repeatedly through her hair, not saying anything because Bella really just needed to be held right now. She was crying and muttering to herself, though I couldn't catch what exactly was being said. All I caught were the words: 'hates,' 'sad,' 'hurt,' and 'go away.' I knew she wasn't talking to me, so maybe just to the memories that still plagued her. I kissed her forehead, nuzzling her short hair with my nose, and just held her tighter.

* * *

Isabella Marie Swan

I couldn't stop crying, as much as I hated myself for it. I didn't want to cry, I wasn't supposed to cry, because whenever I did people yelled. Bree was sneering at me, calling me weak, calling me so many horrible things and I couldn't take it. I wanted it to all stop so badly but it wouldn't.

_Please, please,_ I begged her. Please leave me alone.

_Pathetic, _she jeered, her voice echoing around in my head over and over like a broken record. _No wonder your own mother hates you. Sorry excuse of a human. You just waste space. I don't even remember why I chose you anymore, because you're definitely not worth it._

This only made me cry harder, and I huddled into Carlisle's shirt like it could protect me from her harsh words. I was so upset, so sad, why couldn't I have just died? Why couldn't Charlie and Carlisle have come later, too late to 'save' me? Then I wouldn't be this broken and hurt being, not even a person. I was a smear upon the sidewalk of humanity. I didn't deserve life; I was nothing more than dirt beneath the collective shoe of deserving humans.

_Go away,_ I told Bree, hoping for once that she might listen to me. She only snarled and continued to hurl words of shame and disgust at me.

It was then that I felt another coming on, another of those wretched memories that I wished so badly to be rid of forever.

"_James?" Mommy called into the kitchen. We were sitting in the living room together watching TV, she on one side of the couch and I on the other. She was still watching the old re-run of Jeopardy, not tearing her eyes from the flashing blue and white light coming from the television. It played across her face, making her look older as it caught around the creases on her relatively young features._

_I shivered to myself from where I sat next to Mommy on the plush couch as I heard James call back to Mommy from the kitchen, asking her what she needed. I glanced at the clock, suddenly remembering that it was _that_ time of the day—the time that I dreaded most of all. The red digital numbers of the clock flashed that it was already 8:05, my bedtime according to Mommy. I wanted nothing more than to jump up and smash the object that caused me such pain every night, but I didn't dare move. Instead, I stayed on the couch as James came into the living room and stood in the doorway, pretending that I was invisible, because that way he might not see me. His dark eyes watched Mommy and me. Uneasy, I turned my face away from his gaze, letting my long hair act as a shield from his penetrating eyes._

"_Honey, put Bella to bed, will you?" Mommy asked disinterestedly. I shivered again, knowing the routine. It went like this every night: around eight Mommy asked James to put me to bed, and while he was pretending to read to me, he'd instead do things that were painful and felt wrong. Mommy said I was lying, that I was just trying to get attention, but how could I lie about something that was true? I had learned long ago that telling Mommy about what was happening to me didn't stop it and only made it worse. And I knew that my teachers at school wouldn't listen to me either if Mommy didn't._

_James smiled as I looked up again, stretching his hand out for me to get up and put my own into. It was horrible—I was willingly going to the man who caused me pain on a daily basis to let him cause even more pain._

"_Come on, Bella," James said, hand still out towards me. "Let's get you to bed, shall we?" I didn't like the glint in his eyes, the glint he usually had when he planned to hurt me. I tried to suppress my shaking as I stood up and stumbled over to him. Mommy didn't look at me once, she didn't even say goodnight to me as we left the room and I glanced back at her one last time in a vain hope than she would save me. It hurt, knowing that Mommy didn't love me. I was just a reminder to her of her other marriage to my real daddy, Charlie. James took my hand and pulled me behind him, his hand painfully tight over mine, but I knew not to make a sound, for it would only hurt more if I did._

_Upstairs in my room, he pulled down the covers of my bed and placed his hands under my armpits it life me up onto the high mattress. My sheets were dark blue, and I stared at them and then at my feet that were hanging over the edge of the bed, my hands on the edge of the bed by my knees, my head bent down with my shoulders hunched over. My brown hair swirled past my shoulders and into my face, but I didn't brush it back. My heels bounced off the side of the mattress, my bare feet curled in anticipation of the oncoming pain and fear coursing through my body._

_I saw James's sock covered feet stop by the edge of the bed, the black fabric very dark in comparison to my light colored feet. I stopped moving, careful not to breathe. Maybe if I was still enough, he would forget about me and leave._

_His knees touched mine and his coarse blue jeans rubbed against my soft skin. I held back my wince at the contact. I was dressed in only a small white nightgown that was almost see-through. I didn't like it at all, and James had picked it out and dressed me in it of course. Mommy didn't seem to notice what I was wearing or that I wasn't wearing underwear (which was very noticeable). I suddenly wanted to curl up into a ball on the bed, but my legs were pinned to the side of the mattress by his and I couldn't move._

_My lower lip trembled as James kneeled down to look at my lowered face, his knees finally releasing mine. I hunched up even more, my legs pressing together and lifting up slightly off the bed as I curled in on myself._

"_Bella, Bella," he murmured, his hands pressing on either side of my face and forcing me to look at him. "Sweetie, why so scared? It's normal." He smiled at me, voice like sweet honey, the same he used on Mommy when he wanted something. "When a man loves a woman very much, he wants to express it to her." I didn't love him though, did I? He hurt me, he hit me, and he didn't want me to tell Mommy or anyone else. His eyes were wide and sincere as he gazed upon me. I squirmed slightly on the bed. "Shush, shush, lay back down. There," he said in a kind voice as he lifted me up again and laid my back against the bed. One of his hands lingered on the back of my neck while the other rested on my inner thigh. I didn't like it, it didn't feel right, but he said it was so it had to be. Maybe there was something wrong with me and that's why he hit me sometimes. That made sense._

_James's hands left my body to pull his dark T-shirt off and he turned off the bedside lamp, the only source of light in the room my night light and the white light of the crescent moon outside my window. He unbuttoned his jeans, letting them and his boxers drop to the floor. I averted my eyes, not wanting to look at him like that. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It felt so wrong. James climbed onto the bed completely naked, placing his hands on my legs to pull them apart and settling himself between them. I had this weird feeling in my stomach. Part of me wanted to run and the other part wanted to curl up and hide, though neither was an option right now. I felt that part of him that was privet pressing against one of my legs, and one hand stayed on my thigh while the other traveled up under my flimsy nightgown, pulling it up as he went. I said nothing, made no sound, my breaths shallow even to my own ears. He said that we couldn't let Mommy know because she would be jealous of me. The bedroom door was daringly open though, all Mommy had to do to see us was walk up the stairs. I begged in my mind for her to do so, to leave the muted sounds of the TV and walk up the stairs. Maybe then she would believe me. But if James was right, that it was normal for this to happen and that there was something wrong with me because I didn't like it, would she too be angry, just like James was when I didn't respond the way he wanted me to?_

_The nightgown was gone then, and I felt his chapped lips press up against mine, softly at first, but it quickly turned rough, James prying my lips open with his, his tongue invading my mouth. When I didn't move, his hand fisted in my hair and bent my head back, his teeth biting my lower lip hard enough for a salty metallic taste to pour into my mouth. It only seemed to make him more excited as he ground his hips into mine. I winced as my bruised and tender behind from his spanking earlier that day pressed hard into the mattress and James pulled away from my mouth, attacking my neck instead with his hot, uncomfortable lips. I bit my lower lip, wincing in pain as another wave of salty rust hit my taste buds, trying to distract myself from the feeling of James biting my neck and shoulder with his sharp teeth._

_I gasped and almost screamed as he entered me painfully, and then James was covering my mouth with one of his hands, whispering, "Hush, hush. Don't want to let Mommy know, remember? She'd be upset if she knew and we don't want that, do we?" I shook my head. _

"_Good."_

_XXX_

_After he had finished, patting my head affectionately as he stood from the bed, he dressed and went downstairs. The TV was still playing Jeopardy from the sounds coming up the stairs. I didn't move at first, just laying on my back as a sharp pain pulsed between my legs._

_At some point I rolled over onto my side, curling up into a ball. James said it was okay, so why didn't it feel okay? Why did every time he touched me make me cringe? There had to be something wrong with me that I didn't like it. I knew Mommy liked it. They never tried to be quiet, and as I thought this, I heard a loud giggle and James's and Mommy's feet on the stairs. They walked right past my open bedroom door, James not even casting a look at my huddled form as they went into their room across from mine._

_Was I not enough for him? Was Mommy not enough for him? Why did he have to have us both?_

_They didn't even close their door as he stripped them both and they lay in the bed together. Yes, there was something wrong with me, I thought as I pulled the covers over my head so I wouldn't have to look, and feeling inadequate. Mommy was enjoying it, judging by her excited squeals. I didn't like it, that James was doing the same thing to Mommy that he did to me. The feeling of being inadequate swelled in my chest as I heard their cries of pleasure._

_I knew it now; there was something wrong with me, and Bree agreed with me._

* * *

Carlisle Cullen

Bella suddenly grew still, her small form no longer shaking from her tears and as I looked down I saw that her grip on my now wrinkled shirt had slackened. Her eyes were blank, glassy, and I recognized the symptoms of yet another memory emerging and playing before her eyes. Occasionally, she would mutter to herself, and after several long, horrible minutes the words that were coming out of her mouth broke my heart. She was telling me everything, about how James sexually abused her and made her think that it was normal and that there was something wrong with her because she didn't like it.

Bella started trembling, and she turned into my shirt again, the spell broken.

I kissed her forehead, knowing that there was nothing I could really do to help this time.

_Review, it makes me write faster!_

_Signed,_

_V.H._


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